Harry Potter and the Deadly Deception
by Delylah
Summary: He could not stand being Harry anymore.... He had...never wished so intensely that he could be somebody...anybody...else... Order of the Phoenix, U.S. edition, page 822. Sometimes the best place to hide is in plain sight. An AU year 6 fic, started preHBP.
1. PrologueChapter 1: Minus One

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Spoilers: Everything through Order of the Phoenix. This is a 6th year fic, written post OotP.

This is a beta'ed version of chapter one. A reader was kind enough to point out to me that I had erred in placing the year at 1997 rather than 1996. Thanks! 

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Harry Potter and the Deadly Deception

Prologue

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7 August, 1996 

Albus Dumbledore liked his office. He was surrounded by old friends and familiar objects. He could bounce ideas off of former Headmasters for advice when need be; they provided him with different perspectives, chided him when they felt he was going about his job improperly, and encouraged him when the days seemed dark. 

Summer was the worst. Hogwarts seemed empty without children roaming its halls. Granted, the staff needed the break just as much as the students did, to visit with family and rest their own minds. Still, Albus was never happier than he was on the first of September each year.

Tonight, he was anxious, more so than usual. The summer had been unusually quiet, which was not unexpected. He knew that Tom Riddle was probably regrouping after his failure at the Ministry of Magic But he also knew that Tom was clever . . . and always had more than one plan. Albus suspected tonight might be the night that Tom would make his next move.

Unfortunately, he was not disappointed. Late in the night, the staircase began to spiral, and he could hear heavy footfalls making their way towards him. A dark-haired figured appeared in the doorway shortly after.

"Severus. Come in. Sit, and have some tea."

"Thank you, but no, Headmaster. There's no time for pleasantries."

"Ah. It has finally come to that, then?"

"Yes, Albus. There is no other way around it."

"Very well. We will take care of it on the morrow. He will be in Diagon Alley then. Now, please, sit and have some tea. It will do you good." 

Snape obeyed the Headmaster reluctantly. 

****

Chapter 1 - Minus One

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1 September, 1997

Hermione Granger stood alone on Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross. She scanned the crowd of students and parents repeatedly but had yet to spot the face she was looking for. She began to grow impatient; then impatience turned into worry. _What if . . . _

"Hermione." A masculine voice spoke her name at the same time that a large hand fell on her shoulder. 

Hermione whirled around and beheld the somber countenance of Ron Weasley. Wordlessly, they embraced each other. It had been three weeks since the funeral; the pain was still too fresh to allow them to speak of the events of the summer. Tears sprang anew to Hermione's eyes, and she let them fall. She wore no makeup to be concerned with, and had learned that no matter how often she wiped them away, new tears welled up to take their place. She sniffled and felt Ron's arms briefly clutch her tighter before he released her.

"Here." Ron fumbled in his pocket, withdrew a soft handkerchief and handed it to her.

She accepted it with a whispered "Thanks," and dabbed at her face. "I'm sorry," she said, in a voice that had been made hoarse by grief. "I keep promising myself that I won't do this, but I just can't help it."

"I know." Ron's voice was also hoarse. If Hermione had looked closely, she would have seen that unshed tears glistened in his eyes as well. He drew her to his side protectively and waited while she collected herself.

"I think I'll be okay now. Where is the rest of your family?"

"Helping Ginny with her things. They'll be along in a minute. I've got to go back for my trunk; I wanted to see if you were here yet, so I ran ahead."

"I'm glad. I was starting to get worried. I don't think I could bear it if . . . ." 

"Hush. Don't even think that. Come on, let's get your things on the train, then I'll go get mine."

As Ron took Hermione's trolley and steered it towards the baggage car, the rest of the Weasley family began to emerge from the barrier that separated Platform 9 3/4 from the Muggle world. Fred appeared first, followed by Ginny and George. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley brought up the rear. Ginny ran to Hermione and embraced her in a tight hug.

"I'm so glad to see you," Ginny murmured.

"Me too," Hermione replied, squeezing the younger girl. "I've been worried about you. And about Ron." She released Ginny and stepped back a bit to talk.

"Ron is . . . okay." Ginny said.

"And you?"

Ginny turned haunted eyes to Hermione's face. Hermione could see that she was unusually pale, and that her eyes were red-rimmed. She knew her own appearance couldn't be much better.

"I'm surviving," Ginny answered finally. Hermione imagined that was probably the best way to describe it for all three of them. "I just . . . I still can't believe he's truly gone. It doesn't feel right, going back to Hogwarts without Harry."

"I know," Hermione said. "But we have to, Ginny. He would have wanted us to."

Ron walked up to the girls once more, having retrieved his own trunk and loaded it and Ginny's onto the train. Without speaking, Hermione and Ginny each reached a hand out to him, which he grasped firmly. They stood quietly together for a long moment. Ron was the one to finally break the silence.

"Ready, then?"

"Ready," the girls replied together. Mrs. Weasley embraced each of them and whispered words of comfort in their ears. Ron shook hands with Fred and George, and embraced his father. Fred and George gave each of the girls a hug. It was a time for family to cling together, and for once they were in no mood for pranks. Mrs. Weasley addressed the students once last time.

"Take care of each other. I know this year will be rough on all of you. Ron, you and Hermione make sure to help Ginny with her O.W.L.s. Ginny, make sure Ron and Hermione make up after they argue. Hermione, make sure you all get enough to eat. You've got to keep up your strength. And all of you . . . remember that Harry wouldn't want you to put your lives on hold because of him. Try and have some fun . . . maybe make new friends." Molly looked as if she wanted to say more, but instead hugged and kissed each of them once more. "Well then, off you go. Have a good year."

Together the students boarded the Hogwarts Express, minus one of their own.

Harry Potter would not be returning to Hogwarts with them.

**********

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were the last to board the train. As they made their way down the corridor, the train lurched several times beneath their feet and began rolling slowly away from the station. Hermione and Ron stopped near the front of the train. 

"Ginny, we have to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione said. "We'll join you as soon as we can. Save us a seat, okay? Take care of Crookshanks for me!" 

"All right. I'm going to try and find Luna and Neville. Maybe we can sit with them. See you soon." Ginny took Pigwidgeon's and Crookshanks' carriers from Ron and Hermione and continued her way down the train in search of an empty compartment, or one familiar faces. She paused to speak with several people she knew on the way. Luna was sitting with Colin Creevey and several other fifth years in a compartment that was full. Neville was with the sixth year boys. Ginny stopped at both compartments to greet her friends, but did not stay, as neither compartment had room for Ron, Hermione, Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon. 

Finally, Ginny peered into one of the only compartments left. It was occupied by a boy she didn't know, who was seated next to the window watching the scenery pass by. When she rapped softly against the door, he turned in surprise.

"Um, hello," he said. Ginny noticed his cheeks pinken slightly. She smiled and returned his greeting.

"Hello. I was wondering if you have room for a few more?"

"Erm, sure. There's just me in here. And my owl." He pointed to the tawny owl perched on his shoulder, who nipped his ear affectionately.

"I wanted to save seats for my brother and our friend. We have an owl, too, and a cat. Is that okay?" Ginny brought the carriers into view. Pig was fluttering madly about his cage; Crookshanks was napping.

The boy looked at her nervously. Ginny believed she saw him swallow hard before he answered.

"Of course. There's plenty of room."

''Thanks." Ginny eased into the compartment and shut the door behind her. "Mind if I let Pig out? He's a bit restless."

The boy smiled. "Pig would be the owl?"

"Yes. Pig is short for Pigwidgeon. I know it sounds silly, but it means 'small.'"

"Really? Suits him, then. Go ahead, let him out."

Ginny opened the door to Pigwidgeon's cage. He immediately shot out and began fluttering about the compartment. The boy's owl hooted indignantly at him when Pig flew too close. Ginny laughed and held her hand out for the little owl. He landed long enough for her to feed him some owl treats before fluttering about in circles once more.

"He's been cooped up all morning. Maybe if he flies long enough, he'll be calm by the time Ron gets here and Ron won't yell at him." Ginny noticed the boy looking at her a bit strangely and realized she had failed to introduce herself.

"I'm so sorry. You must think me terribly rude. I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley. And you are?"

"Um, Evan. Evan Jameson." The boy swallowed nervously once more. Ginny thought he must be terribly shy.

"It's nice to meet you, Evan. You're new, aren't you? I don't remember seeing you at Hogwarts. But surely you can't be a first year. You look much too old."

"No! No, I'm not a first year. I'm . . . I'm a transfer student. From Durmstrang. I'll be at Hogwarts for my sixth and seventh years."

"Oh, you'll be in the same year as my brother Ron, then. And Hermione, too. She's one of . . . she's his best friend," Ginny finished sadly, reminded yet again that they were minus a friend this year. She felt her eyes burn with unshed tears and busied herself with Crookshanks, who was still napping. When she felt she could speak without choking, she continued. "I'm in fifth year. O.W.L. year, you know. Did you take O.W.L.s at Durmstrang?"

"Yes."

"Really? How did you do?" Ginny had taken the seat across from Evan. She pulled Crookshanks onto her lap and stroked his fur as he purred contentedly. He had barely stirred when she'd removed him from the carrier. When Evan did not reply to her question, she looked up to find he was staring warily at the cat in her lap.

"Oh, I didn't even ask if you minded."

"No, it's okay. I just don't always get along all that well with cats."

As if on cue, Crookshanks blinked his eyes several times and rose to a sitting position on Ginny's lap. He switched his tail back and forth slowly as he peered at the boy across the compartment. Ginny continued to stroke the cat as she chattered.

"Oh, Crookshanks is a marvelous cat. He's very intelligent, and a great judge of character. You'll probably get along with him just . . . ." 

At that moment, Crookshanks jumped across to the seat next to by Evan. He stood on his hind legs, placed his paws against Evan's shoulder and sniffed Evan's face and hair.

"Wha...what's he doing?" Evan stammered, clearly uncomfortable.

"Crookshanks! Leave him alone!" Ginny was mortified. "I'm so sorry. He usually keeps to himself around strangers."

Crookshanks ignored Ginny and climbed onto Evan's lap, then rose up once more and sniffed the owl on Evan's shoulder.

"Crookshanks! Really, that's enough!" Ginny called again. The cat turned to look at her, blinked twice, then turned a circle in Evan's lap and plopped down to continue his nap.

"Well, I never." Ginny said, amazed by the cat's behavior. She reached across to retrieve the cat, but Evan stopped her.

"No, it's all right. I don't mind. I didn't say I didn't like cats. I just don't always get along with them. But he seems to like me okay."

"I'm terribly sorry," Ginny apologized again. "He's not even my cat. He belongs to my friend Hermione. He's usually a bit of a snob, in fact. I don't know if I've ever seen him take to someone this quickly. But, like I said, he's usually a great judge of character. You must be okay, then," she teased gently, and smiled. Evan returned her smile and stroked the cat in his lap.

"You never answered my question, you know?" Ginny reminded him.

Evan looked up. "What question was that?"

"How did you do on the O.W.L.s? Were they terribly difficult? I'm just dreading them. Ron and Hermione and Harry had an awful . . . " Ginny trailed off once more, stricken, realizing that she hadn't mentioned Harry to Evan before. She choked on the rest of the sentence and realized she would not be able to stave off the tears this time. She stood abruptly.

"Excuse me, I need to find the loo," she whispered and left.

**********

Harry exhaled loudly into the empty compartment. His heart was thumping wildly. Ginny's grief-stricken expression had nearly undone him. He was glad she had excused herself; hopefully it would give him a chance to pull himself back together before she returned. He had known he would come face to face with his friends sooner or later, but had prayed it would be later rather than sooner. He had desperately hoped for some time to get comfortable in his new identity before he encountered them.

Harry looked towards the window, where he could see a partial reflection of himself. The image was still startling; he still had to consciously refrain from doing a double take when he passed in front of a mirror or window. His hair was deep brown and very neat. His face was fuller, the jaw more squared and the chin less pointy than they used to be. His nose had a distinctly different tilt, and his mouth was shaped differently as well. His eyes were still green, but he had purchased brown contact lenses, the kind he could sleep in, to wear in lieu of his glasses. His height remained unchanged, but his body had been made to appear heavier and more muscled than his own slighter build. His voice had been altered as well and now rumbled out of his chest in a way that was disconcerting at times. The charms were long-term; he only had to strengthen them with an incantation once a day, and he had some leeway even then.

Dumbledore had warned him that the year ahead would not be easy. Harry had expected that, but he hadn't comprehended just how difficult it would be, not really. It was killing him just to see the sadness in Ginny's face when she had inadvertently mentioned his name. He hoped she was all right. He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands as he remembered the events that had brought him to this point.

**********

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8 August, 1996

Harry consulted his list of supplies from Hogwarts and compared notes with Ron. They had purchased their books. Harry had purchased new robes from Madam Malkin's, as his old robes were now too short. They had purchased owl treats from Eeylops Owl Emporium and had restocked their potion ingredients at the apothecary.

"Looks like we're done. What time are we supposed to meet the girls?" Harry asked Ron.

"At one o'clock. We have plenty of time. They're probably still trying on robes at Madam Malkin's. Quality Quidditch Supplies has a new Firebolt. Want to take a look?"

"Sounds good. Let's go!"

Ron and Harry ogled the latest Firebolt model in the window at Quality Quidditch Supplies. _Harry was perfectly happy with his own Firebolt, but he enjoyed looking at the new models. Although he knew he would never get rid of his Firebolt, which was precious to him because it had been a gift from his godfather, he might find it necessary to upgrade someday. He might play professionally, for Puddlemere United, or the Tornadoes, or the Cannons. He lost himself in dreams of Professional Quidditch while Ron babbled statistics next to him. When Harry checked his watch again, he discovered that he and Ron had frittered away most of the half hour they had to spare before meeting the girls._

"Ron, it's almost one. Let's go. Hermione and Ginny are probably waiting on us."

"Harry, they're girls. Girls are always late. They're probably looking at cosmetics, or reading about the latest beauty charms in some magazine. We've got time."

"Ron, I'm hungry. Let's go, okay?"

Ron huffed at him, but followed anyway. Harry led them to the Leaky Cauldron, where they were meeting Hermione and Ginny for lunch. As he suspected, the girls were waiting for them at a table beside a window, sitting across from one another. They both looked up and smiled as Harry and Ron approached them. The boys took the remaining stools opposite each other and dropped their packages onto the floor.

"All set?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. And it's a good thing, _too," Ron grumbled. "I have just enough money left for lunch. Not a Knut left over for sweets."_

"I can loan you some if you want, Ron," Ginny offered. "I have a few Knuts left. I didn't have to buy as many books as you, since Hermione is loaning me her texts from last year."

"Nah. Thanks though, Gin. I'll survive."

"Looking forward to O.W.L.s this year, Ginny?" Harry asked, in an effort to make conversation while they studied the menus.

"Oh, of course, Harry. I simply can't wait to study eight hours a night, skip Hogsmeade visits to study on weekends, and scribble essays on parchments until my fingers bleed. Thanks ever so much for reminding me," Ginny replied sarcastically. She kicked Harry lightly under the table and then returned her attention to the menu. Harry kicked her back and laughed when she stuck her tongue out at him. As he perused his own menu, his three companions glanced at each other in surprise, pleased to hear laughter from their friend. Harry was aware of their surprise, and aware of the reason for it. He had not had much to laugh about since Sirius had died. Ginny seemed to be the only one capable of even getting him to crack a smile; he believed she took after Fred and George far more than she did any of her other brothers.

Finally, the foursome placed their food orders and requested four butterbeers. As they waited, they chattered about their purchases, their plans for the rest of the day, and their summer holidays.

"How's life at the Dursleys' this summer, Harry?" Hermione asked him.

"Not too bad. I think old Mad-Eye really made an impression at King's Cross. They've hardly said a word to me all summer, which is pretty decent for them. I'll be glad when school starts back, though."

"You and Hermione are the only people I know that look forward to school," Ron said. "At least you have an excuse."

The conversation lulled briefly as their server set a bottle of butterbeer before each of them. Harry drank deeply from his immediately as Hermione retorted to Ron's teasing.

"Don't you think I have as much of an excuse as Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry took another swig from his butterbeer and tuned out Ron and Hermione to watch Ginny, who had also tuned out Ron and Hermione and was watching the people passing by on the street outside the window. Not a trace of a blush graced Ginny's cheeks today. He was glad; it meant she was no longer affected at all by his presence. Then he was not so glad, for it meant she was no longer affected at all by his presence. Somehow, he had become accustomed to affecting Ginny Weasley. He had accepted it, and even took a little pleasure in it from time to time. To know that she was no longer affected by his presence unsettled him just the slightest bit.

Truth was, Ginny Weasley had become rather attractive over the past four years. He usually didn't take much notice of her; she was just there, like Ron, and Hermione, and Dean and Seamus and Lavender and Parvati were all just there when they were at Hogwarts. They were Gryffindors. They were family.

Today was a little different. With Ron and Hermione so obviously dancing some kind of animal kingdom pre-mating ritual, he felt as if the group had been divided somewhat differently today, with Ron and Hermione on one side and himself and Ginny on the other. It was . . . strange, but not uncomfortable. Ginny glanced up, noticed him watching her and crossed her eyes at him. He grinned and took another swallow of butterbeer, nearly draining the bottle.

The room seemed to be growing warmer, and he imagined it was because he was having unusual thoughts about Ginny. He ran his hand across his forehead and discovered he had broken out into a sweat. As he looked down at his hand, his vision seemed to blur a bit, and he began to feel nauseous.

"Harry?"

He looked up again. Ginny was watching him worriedly.

"Harry, are you okay? You look a little pale."

Her voice sounded far away, and he felt he had to strain to hear her. He tried to focus on her face, but his vision hadn't cleared up; it seemed as if the room was getting darker.

"Harry, you really don't look so good." Ginny reached her hand over and touched his own.

Harry noticed that her skin felt much warmer than his did. His stomach clenched suddenly, and Harry wondered if he would make it to a lavatory before losing the contents of his stomach. When he slid down from his stool, Ginny slid off of hers, too, and stood beside him, placing a hand on his arm as if to brace him. He noticed Ron and Hermione had stopped talking and were staring at him now as well.

"I think I may be ill," he told them. He grabbed the chair beside him as a wave of dizziness washed over him. It felt as if the entire world had tilted. Ginny tightened her grasp on his arm.

Harry tried to take a step forward and suddenly felt as if he had been dropped into an icy lake. He was freezing, and he couldn't draw in a breath, as if his lungs had collapsed from the sudden cold. He stumbled into Ginny and grasped at her arms in an attempt to steady himself. He looked into her eyes; she appeared to be horrified.

"Gin . . . help . . . please." He could no longer hold on; his legs buckled under him, and as he collapsed to the floor, he could hear her screaming.

"HARRY!"

Then the world went black.

**********

11 August, 1996

When Harry awoke, he was in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. There were no windows, and there was only one lamp on the nightstand beside the bed. It was lit, but it didn't do much to dispel the darkness in the room. _He groaned as he attempted to sit up. His entire body ached as if he had been run over by a train._

"Slowly, Harry. You have been ill for several days." The voice was a familiar one. He turned and saw Albus Dumbledore sitting in a chair next to the bed. The Headmaster appeared weary and seemed to have aged since Harry had last seen him at the leaving feast.

"Ill? I feel like I've been dead."

"In a manner of speaking . . . you have been."

"What? What do you mean?"

"What is the last thing you remember, Harry?"

Harry struggled to reorient himself. His brain felt foggy. Finally, he remembered. "Diagon Alley. Leaky Cauldron. I got sick."

"You were poisoned, Harry. You have been in a near-death sleep for four days. I have much to tell you; I only hope you will be able to forgive me once you have heard it."

"Where are we? Why am I not at the hospital? Who poisoned me? Where are Ron and Hermione and Ginny?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily, and Harry grew extremely concerned. The Headmaster was usually lighthearted by nature. The last time Harry had seen him so disheartened was after the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic. After Sirius had died.

"Harry, you are aware of the role that Professor Snape plays for the Order of the Phoenix."

"Yes."

"Several nights ago, the night before your trip to Diagon Alley, Severus came to me. Voldemort had summoned him and commanded him to kill you, Harry. Had he refused outright, Voldemort would have killed him immediately."

"You're saying Snape poisoned me?"

"Professor Snape, Harry. Yes. Professor Snape and I have been expecting this for some time. In order to be prepared, we had already worked out a feasible plan. Unfortunately, the best opportunity to follow through happened to present itself the day after Professor Snape advised me of Voldemort's instructions, which was the day you visited Diagon Alley."

"Opportunity? You let him poison me? Without explaining any of this to me first?"

"Harry, please understand this was a matter of the utmost urgency. It was important that Voldemort continue to believe that Severus was completely loyal to him. It was important for him to believe you were dead. I apologize for not being able to inform you prior to poisoning you, but in actuality, it probably worked out better that you didn't know beforehand. It was more realistic that way."

"Did it work?"

"Yes."

"How?"

''The poison Professor Snape used is one that causes the victim to fall into a stupor that simulates death. Circulation, respiration, and other bodily functions are slowed to the point that they are undetectable, even by medical professionals. Professor Snape also included several other ingredients to add a bit of drama: chills, sweating, nausea, and convulsions" Harry shuddered at the thought of having gone into convulsions in front of his friends. Dumbledore noticed and grasped one of Harry's hands with his own. "The rest will not be easy for you to hear, Harry. I beg you to hear me out and try to hold your questions until I am finished. I would not have taken such drastic measures unless your life and the lives of others were at stake."

Harry nodded that he understood (even though he didn't yet, really), and Professor Dumbledore continued.

"After you collapsed at the Leaky Cauldron, you were rushed by members of the Order to St. Mungo's, where you were pronounced dead later that evening. Your aunt and uncle were notified of your passing. Your funeral service was conducted at the chapel in Hogsmeade two days later, which was yesterday, and you were buried in the cemetery there." Professor Dumbledore paused as Harry's face grew sheet white.

"Buried?"

"It was necessary to complete the illusion. You were buried with a Portkey on your person, which was set to activate last night. It brought you directly here. I've been waiting for you to awaken since that time. Professor Snape stood guard at the gravesite until I notified him you had returned safely."

Harry closed his eyes in an attempt to push down the revulsion. When his stomach clenched and his mouth watered, he knew he was about to be sick. Fortunately Professor Dumbledore recognized his distress and produced a small vial from his pocket.

"Drink this. It will soothe your stomach," the headmaster said. 

Harry opened the vial, which contained a chalky liquid that smelled faintly of mint and lemon. The potion tingled his throat on the way down to his stomach, where it settled and eased the churning Harry felt. He returned the empty vial to Dumbledore, and then leaned forward with his head between his knees until the nausea had completely subsided.

"You were given an antidote as soon as you arrived, but the poison has not completely left your system. It may cause some residual illness for the next day or two," Dumbledore explained quietly, but Harry knew it wasn't the poison that had caused his stomach to clench. The thought of having been in the ground was abhorrent to him.

"What about Ron, and Hermione, and Ginny? And the rest of the Weasleys?" Harry finally croaked when he was able.

When Dumbledore closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, as if to gather his strength, Harry knew this answer would be the worst of all.

"Harry, for your own safety, and that of Professor Snape, it was necessary that they, along with the rest of the world, believe you are dead."

"No. No. Tell me you didn't let them watch me die. Please," Harry pleaded. His last memory was of Ginny screaming as he fell.

"I am sorry, Harry. I had to."

Harry buried his head in his hands and wept.

**********

Harry looked back towards the compartment door when he heard it slide open. Ginny had returned, looking pale but somewhat calmer. Harry only wished that he could say the same about himself. Ginny's scream still echoed in his head, and he wished with every fiber of his being that he could comfort her somehow. He almost hated Dumbledore for placing him in this position. He knew that Ginny was stronger than most people gave her credit for, but for her to have witnessed his "death" first hand, for her to have been the one he collapsed against . . . . Harry feared it had placed a heavier burden on her than she could bear. He hated deceiving her this way; he was afraid he was not up to this task at all. But he had to try.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be rude.". She reclaimed her seat across from him and wrapped her arms around her middle. "I . . . we lost a friend earlier this month. Harry. He would have been in your year, too, along with Ron and Hermione."

"Harry Potter?" he asked. He hoped that she couldn't detect the slight tremor in his voice.

"Yes. You've heard of him?"

Harry swallowed. Merlin forgive him, please. "Of course," he replied gently. "I grew up hearing about Harry Potter. I think everyone our age did."

Ginny flushed slightly. "Of course you did. That was silly of me. It's just . . . I didn't really think of him as 'famous Harry Potter' or 'The Boy Who Lived' anymore. He was just Harry, you know? Our friend. One of the family, really. My brothers kind of adopted him during his first year at Hogwarts, and the rest of the family followed along the summer after that. My mum and dad considered him one of their own. He spent summers and holidays with us." Ginny took a deep breath and smiled through the tears that had spilled over her cheeks once more. "Gods, I'm sorry. Listen to me babbling on like this. You must think I'm cracked." She searched her pockets for her handkerchief and swiped at the tears.

"Not at all," Harry replied, both touched and tormented. He had never known that she had stopped thinking of him as "famous Harry Potter" and thought of him as simply Harry. It warmed his insides in a way that he had thought he might never feel again. Hedwig chose that particular moment to remind him of her presence by hooting softly and chewing a bit of his hair.

Ginny looked up at the tawny-colored owl and smiled. "What's your owl's name?"

"He . . . Hecuba."

"Pretty name. Very regal. Hecuba was the queen of Troy in the Iliad. Do you think she'd like some owl treats?"

"I'm sure she'd love some."

Ginny held her hand out with the promised treats. The owl hopped from her owner's shoulder to the seat next to him, then flapped across the compartment to the seat beside Ginny to take the treats from Ginny's palm. The owl allowed herself to be stroked and hooted softly towards the girl.

"She's beautiful," Ginny said.

"Thanks. She's a good friend, too."

When Ginny looked up at him, there was a strange look on her face for a brief moment, but it soon cleared. He imagined she was reacting to the melancholy tone in his voice. As if in answer, she spoke again.

"It must be hard to transfer to a new school where you don't know anyone. I hope you'll let me be your friend, too, Evan Jameson."

"I think I'd like that, Ginny Weasley." He smiled at her and was gratified by the warm, open smile she gave in return.

"Great. Now . . . do you prefer Exploding Snap, or Wizard Chess? Or . . . oooh, I have a good idea." Ginny's grin became almost evil. "Have you ever played Slap?" she asked in what Harry knew was her "innocent" voice.

"Slap? No, I don't think I've heard of that one." Harry struggled to maintain a straight face. "Can you teach me?"

Ginny's grin grew even more evil, if possible. "I'd love to."

Harry _always_ won when they played Slap. He looked forward to trouncing her soundly, and thought that he might live through this trip after all.

__

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A/N

I have to give credit for the idea of playing Slap to Silver Phoenix25. You can read her cleverly funny fic at fanfiction.net under the ID Silver Phoenix25 (I gave up on trying to get the link to show up here.


	2. Homecoming

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Harry Potter and the Deadly Deception

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Chapter 2 - Homecoming

Ron and Hermione were relieved when their meeting ended and they could finally leave the prefect carriage. As they silently made their way down the corridor, Ron braced a hand lightly against Hermione's back to steady her against the slight swaying of the train. Hermione was oddly moved by the small gesture and wondered if Ron himself was even aware of his action. He had been uncharacteristically tactile since Harry's death. Where before he had seemed unwilling to touch her voluntarily, these days when they were together he frequently touched her shoulder or arm as they walked, and he embraced her without reservation. They had clung together at the Burrow during the first week after the funeral. She had rarely left his side, and he had seemed to need her there. They were incomplete without Harry. To try to muddle through without each other would have been the end of them both, she felt.

It was only after they passed through the door into the next car that they spoke.

"Can you believe they made Cho head girl?" Ron asked.

"There's nothing wrong with Cho, Ron."

"Only that she's a head case. You remember how she was last year. I figured the news of Harry's death would have sent her over the edge."

Hermione stopped mid-stride. "You know, you're right. She does seem to be handling it really well. Odd." She tilted her head and looked back at the door they had just passed through, then shook herself and continued on. "Come on, I don't really want to think about it right now. Let's find Ginny. I hope she found someone to sit with; I don't like the thought of her riding alone. Does she seem a bit thin to you?"

"Yeah. She hasn't been eating very well. I think that's why Mum said what she did, about you making sure everyone gets enough to eat. It's not like Ginny wasn't a bit scrawny to begin with, you know?"

Hermione smiled wanly. "We'll take care of her, then. She'll be all right. We all will, somehow."

Ron did not reply but instead reached over and grasped her hand in his own as they walked. She squeezed his hand lightly, and they continued their search for Ginny. Hermione became concerned when they had found Colin, Neville and Luna, but no Ginny.

"Hello, Ron," Luna greeted him warmly when they found her in a compartment with several other fifth years. "Hello, Hermione." Luna's smile towards Hermione was perhaps not quite as warm, but still friendly.

"Hi, Luna. Have you seen my sister?" Ron asked.

"Sure. She's in a compartment towards the end of the train."

"Is she by herself?" Hermione asked.

"No, there's a strange boy with her."

"What do you mean, 'strange'?" Ron asked her.

"Well, his aura was very unusual. Rather grey, but with red and green swirls all around. Very odd."

Hermione rolled her eyes and tugged at Ron's hand. "Come on, let's just go find her."

"All right. See you, Luna, Colin." Ron nodded at them and then followed Hermione towards the end of the train.

As they neared the next to last compartment, they heard a shouted "Ouch!" and then a muffled noise that almost sounded like Ginny sobbing. Ron let go of Hermione, then stalked to the compartment and threw open the door to find Ginny rubbing her hand gingerly with tears in her eyes. The boy across the seat from her appeared chagrined and more than a bit guilty.

Ron stepped towards the boy menacingly. "What did you do to my sister?" he growled. The strange boy drew back in surprise and opened his mouth as if to answer, but no sound came out. Ron felt Ginny tugging hard on the sleeve of his robe, and turned to face her.

"Ron! What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Ginny, are you okay? We heard you shouting and crying."

"Ron, you dolt. I was laughing. We were playing Slap, and Evan won. He's quite good, almost as good as you. He plays very enthusiastically," Ginny explained as she continued to rub her sore hand.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I guess we did get a bit carried away," Evan apologized. "Is your hand all right?"

"I'm fine, Evan. By the way, this is my older brother Ron, and this," she reached a hand over to Hermione, who stood in the doorway, "is Hermione Granger. Ron, Hermione, this is Evan Jameson. He's a transfer student from Durmstrang. He'll be in sixth year with you two."

"How do you do," Evan mumbled and nodded at Ron and Hermione. Ron offered his hand, and Evan shook it firmly. Hermione nodded politely at him.

"Um, Ginny, may I speak with you outside, please?" Ron didn't give Ginny a chance to answer but hauled her out of her seat and pulled her with him into the corridor, closing the compartment door behind them. Hermione sighed heavily and then spied Crookshanks curled up on the seat next to Evan.

"Crookshanks! There you are." At the sound of his mistress' voice, Crookshanks stirred from his nap, walked over to Hermione and meowed at her. She picked him up and settled into the seat across from Evan that was nearest the door. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several moments.

"So, you're from Durmstrang? Are you an exchange student?" Hermione finally managed.

"No, more of a transfer student. I've been living with my uncle since I was eight. He was a foreign ambassador for the Ministry of Magic, so he was stationed abroad. Durmstrang was the closest school to us. He's been called back though, so we decided I should transfer to Hogwarts. My . . . erm," Evan paused and cleared his throat, "my parents always wanted me to go there."

"Do you know Viktor Krum?" Hermione asked. "We met him in fourth year, when he was here for the Triwizard Tournament."

"Not very well. He's a couple of years older than I am, and our paths didn't cross very often at school. He's a brilliant Quidditch player, though."

"Yes. I'll have to write to him and see if he remembers you." Hermione noticed Evan's eyes widen slightly. "You'll love it at Hogwarts. I've thought about applying to be an exchange student to Beauxbatons, but I don't think I could just now. Aren't you sad to leave all your friends behind?"

"Yes," Evan replied shortly. He transferred his gaze to the scenery beyond the window.

"I'm sorry; I wasn't thinking. Of course you are. But try not to be too sad. Hogwarts is a wonderful school, and I'm sure you'll make many new friends. Seems you've already made one."

"Erm, yes. Ginny is very nice."

"She's a great person. Just . . . well, I'm not sure how to say this. The three of us have lost a dear friend recently, and she's a bit fragile just now."

Evan made an odd noise, as if he were clearing his throat, then turned back to face Hermione.

"Yes, she told me. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, that's very kind. Well, I'd better go rescue Ginny from Ron. Or by now, rescue Ron from Ginny, before she really lets him have it. It was good to meet you, Evan. Ron and I are prefects, by the way. If you need anything, just let us know."

"I will. Thank you, uh, Hermione, wasn't it?"

"That's right. See you later, then. Ron and I are supposed to patrol the cars. Crookshanks, behave yourself." She deposited the cat onto the seat. He promptly leapt across the compartment and resumed his place next to Evan. Hermione appeared surprised, but then smiled.

"He likes you," she said to Evan, and then she opened the compartment door and stepped outside.

**********

"Ouch, Ron, let go of me!" Ginny snapped at her brother as he pulled her into the corridor. She yanked her arm away from him and stood glaring at him.

"Ginny, why did you sit all the way back here?" he asked. "You don't even know this bloke."

"It was the only compartment left that had room for all of us and your pets! What is wrong with you?"

"I just don't like the idea of you sharing a compartment with a stranger."

"Ron, don't be absurd. He seems perfectly nice."

"But Ginny, he's from Durmstrang."

"So?" Ginny said, and folded her arms across her chest.

"So, he'll probably get sorted into Slytherin!"

Ginny hesitated, but then retorted once again. "So?"

"Ginny!" Ron sounded scandalized at the thought that she might find the company of a Slytherin anything but insufferable.

"Ron, you remember what the Sorting Hat said last year. If the houses don't put aside this ridiculous rivalry and unite, something bad will happen. Besides, you don't know what house he'll be sorted into. I wouldn't be surprised if it's Gryffindor. He. . . ." Ginny stopped and swallowed.

"He what?" Ron asked.

"Well, he . . . he reminds me just a little bit . . ." Ginny trailed off as her eyes welled up, but she struggled to continue. "He reminds me a bit of Harry."

"Oh, Gin." Ron pulled her into a hug. "It'll be okay." At that moment, Hermione stepped back out into the corridor.

"Are you all right, Ginny? Ron, what did you do?" Hermione rounded on Ron fiercely.

He raised his hands in protest. "I didn't do anything!"

"I'm fine, Hermione. Ron was just expressing his 'concern.' Are you guys going to come in and sit with us? The snack cart should be around soon."

Hermione glanced at Ron before replying to Ginny. "Actually, we're supposed to be patrolling the corridors. Harry's¾ " Hermione broke off and cleared her throat. When she continued, her voice was rough. "The professors are more concerned than usual with security. We have to patrol until we reach the school, with staggered breaks. We'll be back by in an hour or so to check on you, Ginny, but we have to do our jobs. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine, Hermione." Ginny hugged her friend and then hugged her brother. "Don't worry about me. Want anything off the cart?"

"Chocolate Frogs," Ron answered automatically. "I'll pay you back later. Thanks, Gin. We'll be back soon."

As Ron and Hermione strolled back down the corridor, they turned once to wave at her. Smiling, she waved back, then returned inside the compartment. Evan was once again staring out at the countryside.

"Sorry about Ron. I'm the baby of the family; he can be overprotective sometimes," Ginny said.

"I understand. I would be, too, if I had a little sister," Evan replied without turning around. Ginny sensed that his mood, like hers, had been dampened somewhat. She chalked it up to Ron's less than friendly reception and made an attempt to draw Evan back into conversation.

"Do you know what house you want to be in? There are four of them, you know. You'll be sorted into a house during the feast tonight."

"Yes, I know. Um, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to try and take a bit of a nap. I'm kind of tired."

"Of course," Ginny replied, somewhat disappointed. She reached for the _Quibbler_ that Luna had passed to her during their brief visit and did her best to occupy herself while Evan continued to stare out the window.

**********

Harry was relieved when the train finally pulled into the station at Hogsmeade late that evening. Hermione and Ron had returned several times to check on Ginny, but never stayed longer than fifteen minutes, which was their allotted break time. Neither of them made much attempt at conversation, for which Harry was glad. He missed them terribly, but Professor Dumbledore had been adamant that Harry not reveal his identity to anyone for his own safety. The only reason he agreed to abide by the restrictions was that he knew Professor Dumbledore was right, and that in fact Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all much safer now that he was believed to be dead. He could rest easier knowing that none of them could be made a target of Voldemort simply for being Harry Potter's friend.

He glanced across at Ginny and noticed that the arrival of the train had not awakened her. He had roused from his own nap earlier to discover that she had fallen asleep herself in the meantime. He was glad; as much as he had enjoyed her company earlier, trying to behave as a new acquaintance had been taxing. He studied her face for a moment now and decided she looked troubled even in sleep. Her forehead was creased with frown lines, and her mouth turned down as it did when she was unhappy. Crookshanks was curled around the back of her neck, also snoozing. 

"Ginny? Ginny, wake up. We're here." When she didn't stir, he stood and leaned over to shake her arm gently. "Ginny, wake up."

Crookshanks hopped down from his perch on her shoulders and began to wash his fur. Ginny looked up and blinked several times. She stared at Harry oddly, as if she didn't remember who he was. Then her expression cleared. "Evan. Did you have a good nap?"

"Yes. So did you, from the looks of it." Harry smiled, for her hair was mussed and she still appeared to be drowsy.

She noticed his amusement and began fussing with her hair and straightening her robes. "I must look a fright."

"No. I wasn't laughing at you. You look fine. Except. . . ." He motioned to the shoulders of her robes, which were covered in ginger-colored cat hair.

"Oh, no." Ginny stood and began brushing ineffectively at the offending hairs. When she turned around, he could see the back of her shoulders had fared no better.

"Here, there's some . . . let me. . . ." He stepped up behind her and braced one hand on her shoulder while he brushed the places she couldn't reach. The moment he touched her, she stilled and remained frozen in place until he finished. "Well, it's somewhat better, anyway," he assured her.

Ginny turned back to face him, and he noticed she was blushing slightly. He realized that a true stranger probably would not have been so forward and hoped she wouldn't think anything of his blunder.

"Erm, thanks," she mumbled, then she giggled softly and pointed to his robes. "You could use some spiffing up yourself."

Harry glanced down to see that Crookshanks had been just as generous with his robes as he had with Ginny's. He began brushing at his robes furiously until most of the hair was flying about the compartment.

"Ugh." Ginny waved her hands in the air to fan the hair away from herself and Evan. "We'd better get a move on." Ginny busied herself getting Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks into their carriers. Harry did the same with Hedwig, who hooted dolefully at him.

"It's just for a little while," he whispered to the owl, who flapped her wings and turned her back on him.

"Ready, then?" Ginny asked. "Don't worry about your trunk. It will be waiting for you in your dorm after the feast tonight."

"Ready," Harry answered. They moved to open the compartment door just as Ron and Hermione reappeared.

"Everything okay, Gin?" Ron asked.

"Of course. We were just heading out."

Ron stepped back and allowed his sister through the door. He motioned for Hermione to precede him, then immediately followed her, leaving Harry to bring up the rear. Harry believed he could detect a definite coolness in Ron's demeanor, but there was nothing he could do about that. He sighed heavily and followed them down the corridor, then off the train and over to the waiting carriages. Hermione and Ginny chattered ahead of them. Ron walked a pace behind them, and Harry walked several paces behind Ron.

"Ginny, thanks for taking care of Crookshanks for me," Hermione said. "Can you take him on up to the castle? Ron and I have to ride across the lake with the first years."

"Yeah. We drew names and lost. I still think Malfoy cheated," Ron grumbled behind them.

"Oh, Ron, really. It doesn't matter. Besides, the castle is so pretty from the lake at night."

"I know. I still remember from first—" Ginny looked up towards the carriages and stopped abruptly. Ron and Hermione stopped with her, and Harry caught up in time to hear Ginny's next words clearly, even though her voice had dropped to nearly a whisper.

"I thought . . . I thought we would see them."

"See what?" Ron asked. "What's the matter?"

Hermione had caught on more quickly than Ron. "The thestrals," she murmured softly. "She's right. I thought we would be able to see them, too. Why can't we?"

Harry said nothing. There was nothing to say, even if he could bring himself to speak at the moment. He felt like an intruder. He was afraid that the lump in his throat must have grown large enough to be visible to everyone. His entire body was tensed, and he prayed that someone would break the silence before he gave into the overwhelming impulse to throw himself to the ground and beg their forgiveness, wailing that he was there beside them and it had all been a horrible mistake.

Finally, Ron spoke. "We didn't actually see him die." An icy wave of shock broke over Harry, and he felt a bit weak in the knees. _Surely Ron didn't mean . . . ?_

Ginny whirled around to face Ron, dropping both animal carriers in her shock. "Are you joking?" she hissed angrily. "We were there. I caught him when he fell. And then. . . ." She choked on the words and covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sob that rose in her throat. Ron pulled her into his embrace and stroked her hair.

"Shh, no, Ginny. I just meant . . . at St. Mungo's. They wouldn't let us in the room, and that's where . . . where it actually happened." Ron held Ginny in his arms as she struggled to gain control over the sobs that seemed to tear themselves from her body. Her shoulders heaved, and her fingers clutched at the back of his robes. Harry watched them and felt as if something were crushing his chest, almost the same as he had felt that day in the pub. He couldn't draw a breath and wondered if he would collapse yet again before them.

"Excuse me," Harry rasped and carried Hedwig over to the carriages. He could not . . . _could not_ stand next to Ginny and do nothing while she cried _for him_. He found an empty carriage and hoisted Hedwig's cage into it. He then clambered up into one of the seats and turned his face away from his friends, hoping his own tears had fallen unnoticed. He wiped angrily at his eyes and breathed deeply as the pressure in his chest began to ease some. Harry closed his eyes and prayed for this night to be over soon.

**********

"Shh, Ginny. I'm sorry." Ron felt terrible; he hadn't meant to upset his sister. He had spoken without thinking and had never imagined she would react so badly. He only meant that Harry had been declared dead after they had arrived at St. Mungo's, and that Ron, Hermione and Ginny hadn't been in the room at the moment Harry had actually died. While Ginny and Hermione clung together on one of the sofas in the waiting room, Ron had been pacing in the halls, praying that Harry would pull through.

"Here now, what's this?" a familiar voice spoke from several feet above Ron's head. Ron was relieved and somewhat cheered.

"Oh, Hagrid." Hermione embraced their friend, overjoyed to see him. "I'm so glad to see you. We've missed you so."

"There, there, Hermione." Hagrid patted her back hard enough to almost knock her over, but Ron didn't think she cared. Ron returned his attention to Ginny, who had quieted somewhat. She was sniffling instead of sobbing now, and he risked a small joke.

"Hey, you're not getting my good robes all snotty, are you?" he gently teased.

Ginny's response was to smack his chest hard with her palm before she lifted her head and began swiping at her face.

"I'm fresh out of handkerchiefs. Gave my last one to Hermione this morning," Ron said apologetically.

"That's okay; I have my own. Though it's already damp." Ginny fished the much-abused handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her face once again. "I'm sorry, Ron. You were…you were right, I'm sure. About the thestrals."

"Okay now?"

"I will be." She smiled blearily up at Hagrid. "Hello, Hagrid."

"Ginny, Ron. Everything all right, then?" Hagrid asked.

Ron noticed that Hagrid's own voice was slightly hoarse, and he fervently hoped that he could get the girls to move along swiftly. He didn't think he could handle a weepy Hagrid just now. "All right, Hagrid. It's good to see you, mate. Guess we should start herding the first years towards the lake?"

"Right. C'mon, then." Hagrid began to bellow, " Firs' years! This way!"

Ron looked down at his sister. "Will you be okay, Ginny?"

Before she could answer, Hermione added, "Do you want us to ride with you? I'm certain we could get someone to switch with us."

"No, no. I'm all right. You go on. I think I'm going to go find Evan and apologize. He probably thinks I'm a complete basket case."

"Ginny. . . ."

"Yes?"

"Mum would understand if you wanted to go back to the Burrow. For a week or two, just until you're rested up." Ron could see his sister draw her shoulders up in indignation, but just as quickly as she had, she relaxed them again, apparently choosing to accept his concern at face value rather than interpreting it as pity or lack of confidence in her.

"No, Ron. Really, I'll be okay." She leaned up and kissed her brother on the cheek, then hugged Hermione before retrieving Pig and Crookshanks and setting off to search for her new friend.

**********

"Evan?" The soft voice roused Harry from the numbness that had settled over him after he had sat down. He both dreaded and welcomed her presence. He desperately wanted to make sure she was all right, yet at the same time didn't know if he could look at her without feeling crushed once more by his own guilt. Concern for her overrode his own sense of self-preservation, and he responded to let her know he was inside the carriage.

"I'm here." He scooted over towards the door and reached down to lift the cat and the owl into the carriage, then offered her his hand. She accepted it and pulled herself up into the carriage, then sat down across from him. They sat in awkward silence for several moments. He watched as she wrung her hands in her lap, and just as he had finally steeled himself to say something, she spoke.

"Evan, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must think of me. I don't usually burst into tears at the least provocation. You must be terribly uncomfortable."

And suddenly, he wasn't. "No, no. Don't apologize. I can imagine what you must be going through."

"Really? Can you . . . can you see the thestrals?"

He met her gaze dead on for the first time since she had asked to share his compartment that morning. "Yes, I can."

"Then I guess you can imagine. I was surprised I couldn't see them. I expected I would be able to, but I can't."

"That's not a bad thing, Ginny. And you don't have to explain, not now. Maybe someday, but not tonight."

"You're right." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if she were mentally pulling herself together.

"So, are you going to give me any idea what I'm in for tonight?"

She smiled. "Oh, it's terrible. You have to battle a troll, and you're judged and sorted into your house based on your performance."

He arched one eyebrow at her. "Really? It sounds dreadful. What are the criteria?"

"Well, if you face the danger head on with bravery and courage, and fight the troll to the death, you get placed in Gryffindor. If you use your superior intellect to defeat the troll, you're placed in Ravenclaw. If you don't quite manage to defeat the troll, but work very hard to stay ahead of it and not get eaten, you get placed in Hufflepuff." She was trying hard not to snicker.

"And the fourth house?" he inquired very seriously.

"Oh, yes. That's Slytherin."

"And how would I manage to get placed in Slytherin?"

"Simple. You cheat!"

Harry burst into unexpected laughter. "I can't wait. I only hope that my performance lives up to expectations. And tell me, Miss Weasley, what house are you in?"

"Gryffindor, of course. The Weasleys have always been in Gryffindor. Of course, you can only aspire to such greatness. According to Ron, you'll be sorted into Slytherin without a doubt."

"Why is that?"

"Because you're from Durmstrang, of course. You studied the Dark Arts there, didn't you?"

"A bit. I don't imagine it was so very different from what Hogwarts teaches, though."

"Perhaps." Ginny looked down and swiped at several stray cat hairs that still clung to her robes.

"Will it matter?"

"Will what matter?" She looked up again at his question.

"If I'm sorted into Slytherin?"

"Not to me. I meant it when I said I would like to be your friend, Evan."

"Good. I meant it, too. Now really. What am I in for?"

She grinned. "You'll just have to wait and see." At that moment, two more fifth-year students joined them. He fell silent as Ginny greeted the newcomers, and as the carriage rolled on towards Hogwarts, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of finally returning home.


	3. Out of Sorts

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Chapter 3 - Out of Sorts

Harry descended from the carriage first, and then turned to help down Ginny and the other two occupants, both fifth-year girls who had giggled obnoxiously during the entire ride to the castle. As the carriage rolled off, Harry realized he had failed to adhere to Professor Dumbledore's instructions: he was expected to arrive with the first years in order to participate in the Sorting Ceremony. Harry had no idea what he should do next, and began to feel very foolish for allowing the force of habit to lead him into situations he would do better to avoid. Ginny noticed his confusion.

"Evan? Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Erm, I'm not sure where to go next. I think, erm, maybe I should have gone with the first years?" Harry stammered.

Ginny wrinkled her brow, then realized his dilemma.

"Oh, the Sorting. I didn't even think about it. Come on, we'll ask someone." Ginny led him into the front entrance of the castle. Their luggage was stacked along the walls, and when she set down the cages she was carrying, she indicated that he should do the same.

"See you soon, Hecuba," he whispered. The owl hooted at him as if to indicate her dislike for her new name. He fished some owl treats out of his pocket to appease his pet and knelt down to offer them to her. As he straightened, he was dismayed to hear a familiar voice.

"Miss Weasley, Mr. Jameson. How good of you to join us this evening." Professor Snape nodded coolly at them both, but his voice carried disdain rather than sincerity. "Jameson, Professor McGonagall has been looking for you. You were expected to arrive with the first years." Snape was now looking down his nose at Harry in his usual manner, which was that of someone watching a bug he intended to squash at any moment.

"Hello, Professor Snape. We were just about to head that way. Evan wasn't certain if-- "

"That will be enough, Miss Weasley," Professor Snape interrupted. "Please conduct yourself at once into the Great Hall; the Sorting Ceremony is about to begin. You do not want to be late. I will escort Mr. Jameson to his proper destination."

"All right, then. See you later, Evan. Good luck with the troll!" She grinned mischievously and then turned and ran up the steps in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Erm, thanks," he called after her. She waved back at him without turning around, then turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

"This way," Snape commanded in a chilly voice. "And do be quick about it. You've caused enough of a delay already." Harry thought to himself that it was nice that some things never seemed to change. He could always count on Snape to make him feel lower than a worm crawling along the ground.

"I'm sorry. I forgot. . . ."

"I am not interested in your excuses, Jameson, only in your compliance," the professor said sharply.

Harry's mouth snapped shut, and he felt his face flush in embarrassment. Snape turned on his heel and stalked off down the corridor, leaving Harry to trail along behind. After many twists and turns, they joined the group of first years, who were uncommonly quiet. Harry saw immediately that their silence was a result of Professor McGonagall's formidable presence at the top of the staircase. She was glowering at the lot of them. Harry couldn't help but smile. He remembered well how it felt to be in their shoes. Then McGonagall's eyes snapped to his face. Her exasperation was clearly evident, and Harry's good mood dwindled even further under her scrutiny.

"Mr. Jameson, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Were you lost, or merely sight-seeing?" Professor McGonagall's tone was frosty.

Harry sighed inwardly; he wasn't getting off to a very good start this evening. "Neither. I apologize, Professor. I was-- "

"Never mind," she interrupted. "Fall in line behind Mr. Yarbrough. They are waiting on us in the Great Hall."

Harry swallowed nervously. He hadn't imagined that the Sorting Ceremony would be any more nerve-wracking than it had been his first year, but suddenly, it was doubly so. At least the first years were all in the same boat. He, on the other hand, stood head and shoulders over the rest of the new students and felt he could not possibly be more conspicuous. He feared that everyone in the Great Hall would see through this sham immediately, and he had no doubt that Malfoy would take great delight in exposing him, therefore making him vulnerable to Voldemort once more.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry received an unpleasant jolt of surprise when they arrived at the Great Hall. Cho Chang and Eddie Carmichael stood on either side of the massive double doors and, as the group of new students approached, ceremoniously flung the doors wide open. Harry was relieved that Cho did not seem to recognize him in the least, which went a long way towards calming his racing heart, at least until he followed the first years up to the front of the Great Hall. He could hear a low whisper begin in the back of the Hall and make its way towards the front as they passed the rest of the students. He caught snippets of conversations here and there as he walked.

__

"Who is that? . . . he's too old . . . think he's a Mudblood? . . . must've lowered their standards . . . he's really cute!"

Harry struggled to ignore the whispers, but by the time he and the first years had reached the front of the Hall, his ears were burning.

Professor McGonagall turned to face the student body, and with a sharp "Ahem!" commanded immediate silence. Students who had turned to murmur to one another straightened up and faced the front again. Their curiosity was almost tangible to Harry, and he prayed once more to make it through the evening alive and without giving away his true identity. His eyes scanned the Hall and then backtracked to the one familiar face that stood out because she was looking directly at him. Ginny winked at him in apparent amusement before she turned to face the front with the others.

Professor McGonagall went through the familiar ritual of placing the wooden stool in front of the High Table and depositing the Sorting Hat upon the stool. There was complete silence in the Great Hall for a long moment, and then the hat began to sing.

__

"Another year begins again,

And so I sing my song,

For once again it falls to me

To place you where you belong.

Fear not, young Hogwarts students,

For the procedure pains you not.

Simply slip me on your head,

And I'll tell you on the spot,

If Slytherin will be your new home,

Or Hufflepuff so true,

If Gryffindor calls you their own,

Or if Ravenclaw seeks you."

Harry only half-listened to the rest of the song; he already knew the qualities that each house favored above all others. He had begun to think back to his first Sorting and wondered if this one would be different. Would the Sorting Hat accept him as Evan Jameson or recognize him as an impostor and shout his true name for everyone to hear? Would it Sort him a second time, and if it did, would it offer him the same choice it had when he was a first year? Deep down, Harry knew he belonged in Gryffindor, yet over the years he had occasionally wondered how his life would have been different if the hat had sorted him into Slytherin. The hat had mentioned during his first Sorting and then again in Harry's second year that he would do well in Slytherin. Harry now began to look to the year ahead of him and, for the first time, realized that returning to Gryffindor as a stranger with secrets to hide might bring more heartache for him than happiness.

The Hall around him burst into applause, and Harry realized abruptly that the hat had finished singing and the Sorting had commenced. First Appleby, Karen went to Ravenclaw. Barnfeather, Malcolm was Sorted into Hufflepuff. After Burns, Maryanne was Sorted into Gryffindor, Harry's attention again drifted from his current surroundings until Yarbrough, Cameron became the final new member of Hufflepuff, and Harry realized that his name hadn't been called. His face flushed a dull red as he wondered if Professor McGonagall had called the name Evan Jameson and he had failed to respond. He cast a furtive glance around the Hall to see if anyone was staring at him. They were, but not for the reason he thought. Professor Dumbledore stood at the center of the High Table and began speaking.

"I'm certain everyone has noticed that one student remains to be Sorted. I am pleased to announce that we are fortunate to have a transfer student from Durmstrang with us this year. Mr. Evan Jameson will complete his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. I hope you will all do your best to make him feel welcome and to help him acclimate himself to Hogwarts quickly. Mr. Jameson, if you would be so kind?"

Dumbledore motioned him to come forward. Harry's heart was thudding painfully in his chest. Dumbledore had offered him the chance to be Sorted in private, but they had both agreed that he would be made more conspicuous by circumventing the Sorting Ceremony than by participating in it. Harry now wondered if it would have made much difference; he currently felt as if he were being scrutinized by everyone in the Hall. Nonetheless, he proceeded to the front of the Hall and took his place on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head, and the entire student body focused their eyes upon him.

A small yet familiar voice murmured in his ear. "Well, Evan Jameson. You present me with another dilemma. What shall we do with you this time?"

Harry's insides grew cold, and he became terrified that the hat was about to expose him. He couldn't bring himself to answer, but the hat continued to speak.

"You've proven you have courage, yes, and intelligence, too. Faced the Dark Lord five times and lived to tell the tale. Takes a stout heart and a keen mind. Your loyalty to your friends is unquestionable. And let's not forget your penchant for disregarding the rules. Yes, a dilemma, once again. Where shall we put you, Jameson? You won't have an easy time of it no matter where you go."

Harry looked towards the year ahead, and thought of how hard it would be to see Ron and Hermione and Ginny every day and not reveal himself to them, either deliberately or by accident in word or deed. He thought of how hurt he would be if they refused him their friendship. He thought of how he would have to live in the same dormitory with Ron and pretend to be Evan. Then he thought of how he would never be able to be close to his friends because that would mean dropping the walls he had raised so carefully in order to maintain this deception. He thought of how much danger they would all be in . . . Ron, Hermione, Ginny . . . if he slipped, even for a moment, and he found he had known all along what his decision would be.

__

Not Gryffindor. Not Gryffindor. Please, not Gryffindor, he thought.

"Not Gryffindor, eh? Well, then, better be . . . SLYTHERIN!"

The hat shouted the name of the house loud enough for the entire school to hear. There was a rousing cheer from the Slytherin table. Harry mustered a weak smile as he returned the hat to Professor McGonagall and made his way over to the Slytherin table. He sat near the front of the table with his back to the wall, giving him an unobstructed view of the entire Great Hall. Without meaning to, he sought out Ginny and discovered she was once again looking in his direction. He couldn't decipher her expression; it was somewhere between confusion and dismay. He realized sadly that she would more than likely forget about making any further overtures of friendship.

That thought served to demolish whatever was left of any good feelings he'd had earlier about coming home to Hogwarts.

**********

"What did I tell you, Ginny? Slytherin. He was Sorted into _Slytherin_. Maybe next time you'll listen to your older brother about the types of people you should be friendly with," Ron whispered to Ginny, who was seated across the table from him.

"Ron, I haven't listened to you for the past fifteen years. Do you honestly think I'm going to start now?" Ginny retorted quietly. "Now shush. Professor Dumbledore is speaking."

Dumbledore was tapping his glass gently with a spoon. Around the Great Hall, the students once again fell silent.

"I know you are all tired and hungry, but while I have your attention, I have several announcements to make before the feast commences. First, I would like to present to you our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Please welcome Professor Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Professor Dumbledore's announcement was met with a smattering of polite applause, and Kingsley stood and nodded several times at the students and the other members of the faculty. Ron, Hermione and Ginny smiled, pleased to see a familiar face at the High Table. Kingsley was an Auror and, even better, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. It would be good to have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor they could trust, for a change.

"Why didn't anyone tell us?" Ron wondered aloud.

"Don't worry about it. Hush!" Hermione laid her hand across Ron's arm and squeezed as if to emphasize her words. Ron flushed slightly when she did not remove her hand immediately, but he remained silent, a faint smile on his face as he returned his attention to Professor Dumbledore.

After Professor Shacklebolt had taken his seat, Professor Dumbledore continued. "I must once again remind you that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students unless accompanied by a member of the staff. If you value your life, please heed my warning." Dumbledore paused for a moment, as if to allow the seriousness of his words to sink in. "Students are reminded that there is to be no magic performed in the corridors between classes. Also, Mr. Filch has amended the list of items that will be considered contraband and confiscated upon sight. He has asked me to inform you that any and all products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are expressly forbidden. Any student found with these items in their possession will be given the foulest detention imaginable."

Ron snorted. "Filch is a complete git. Fred and George couldn't have asked for better marketing than that. They won't be able to keep up with the demand."

At the High Table, Dumbledore's face grew solemn. "Finally, I am deeply saddened to bring you the news that Hogwarts has lost one of our own. Most of you know that several weeks ago Harry Potter's life was taken. He is the second member of our family that Hogwarts has lost to Lord Voldemort since his reappearance over a year ago. I ask you all to stand and join me now in a moment of silence in Harry's honor."

The students and professors stood as Dumbledore had requested. Then the entire Hall went completely quiet. Ron slipped one hand into Hermione's and reached his other across the table to Ginny. Many of their fellow Gryffindors glanced their way with expressions of sympathy; several of the girls had tears in their eyes. At last, Dumbledore broke the silence.

"Thank you. Now, please be seated and begin your meal," the Headmaster said, and then took his seat.

As the tables began to fill with the usual assortment of delectable dishes, quiet conversations began around the Hall. Ron, Hermione and Ginny overheard several whispers from their fellow students about the circumstances of Harry's death, but none of the three wished to discuss the subject with anyone. They silently filled their plates. Ron thought that he had not yet felt Harry's absence as keenly as he did now.

"I thought he would say more about Harry," Hermione finally said, an expression of dismay on her face. "I thought he would say something about how much Harry had done for the school, about how many times he fought Voldemort. Something . . . more."

Though Ron agreed with Hermione, he tried to make sense of Dumbledore's brief mention of Harry's death. "I'm certain he had his reasons, Hermione. Please, this day has been hard enough as it is. Let's not talk about it right now. We can ask Dumbledore about it later."

Hermione nodded and turned her attention to her plate, but realized she was no longer particularly hungry. Ron had piled his own plate with his usual fare: multiple helpings of everything within reach. But when he stared down morosely at the food instead of devouring it immediately, Hermione knew that he wasn't hungry either. Ginny didn't seem to be faring any better; she picked listlessly at her mashed potatoes and ignored the roast chicken she had selected. Other Gryffindors all around them were quietly talking amongst themselves, but the three of them remained uncharacteristically silent.

"Ron, have you ever known a student to transfer permanently to Hogwarts from any of the other wizarding schools?" Hermione finally ventured.

"No. I would have to ask Bill or Charlie to be certain, but I don't think so. Seems like Percy may have mentioned there was an exchange student here for a term once, but not a permanent transfer."

"That's what I thought. I'm certain I've never read about such a thing in _Hogwarts, A History._" Hermione absently took a bite of candied yams and chewed thoughtfully.

Ron picked up on her train of thought. "Ginny, did Jameson mention why he was transferring?"

"He said something about an uncle-- " Ginny began, but Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, he told me, too, when you and Ron were squabbling in the corridor." Hermione relayed the conversation she'd had with Evan to Ron.

"Why not just enroll in Hogwarts first year, then?" Ron wondered. He seemed puzzled that anyone would choose Durmstrang over Hogwarts.

"He said Durmstrang was the closest school to them," Hermione answered. "I guess it makes sense. It would be easier to visit during holidays."

"I guess so," Ron replied, sounding unconvinced. "So does he know Vicky?" he teased. Hermione glowered at him in return. "Come on, I know you asked. Does he?"

"He said he knew of him but didn't know him personally. He did say that he thinks _Viktor_ is an amazing Quidditch player."

"All the more reason to stay away from him, then. He can't be very intelligent if he said that," Ron groused.

"Oh, really?" Ginny broke in. "Last time I checked, you had a framed piece of parchment signed by Viktor Krum hanging on your wall, Ronald Weasley."

"I burnt it," Ron muttered darkly, and bit into a chicken leg.

Hermione snorted derisively. "In any case, the next time I write to Viktor I'm going to ask if he knew Evan Jameson at Durmstrang. I'd like to find out more about him."

"What do you want to do that for?" Ron asked suspiciously. "Going to ask him on a date?"

Hermione ignored him and looked across the table to Ginny. "Ginny, did he say much to you?"

"Not really. He seemed a little sad. I imagine he's homesick. We played cards for a while and just chatted about Hogwarts until you and Ron found me. After you left, he said he wanted to sleep, so I read for a bit while he stared out the window. We both must have dropped off at some point. I didn't wake up until just before we reached the station in Hogsmeade."

"Maybe he's a Death Eater spy. He's probably over there with Malfoy plotting to overthrow Dumbledore even as we speak. You can't trust anyone from Durmstrang. Dad says that school is nothing more than a Death Eater training camp," Ron said.

"Ron, you know he said no such thing. You're making that up," Ginny scolded him.

"Well, maybe Dad didn't use those exact words," Ron conceded, "but he did say they teach the Dark Arts at Durmstrang. I really don't think you should be talking to that bloke anymore, Ginny. We don't know anything about him."

"It's best to know your opponent. You should know that, Ron. You're a chess player," Hermione said.

"What? What does that have to do with anything?" Ron asked.

"It means," Ginny interrupted as Hermione was about to reply, "that in order to be able to defeat the Dark Arts, you have to learn about them, right? Just like we do in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But that's not the same thing," Ron protested.

"How do you know?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I don't, but that doesn't mean-- " Ron didn't get a chance to finish his thought as Ginny sighed in exasperation.

"Ron, judging him because he came from Durmstrang is like Malfoy judging us because we're poor, or Hermione because her parents are Muggles. You should know better." Ron suddenly looked ashamed and began rearranging the food on his plate with his fork as Ginny continued. "I'm old enough to decide who I want to be friends with. If I decide I want to be friends with Evan, that's really none of your business." Ginny's glare strongly resembled their mother's, and Ron knew it was pointless to argue with her. The three of them finished their meal in relative silence, anxious for Dumbledore to dismiss them so they could proceed to their dormitories and finally see the end of what had been a wretched day.

**********

Across the Hall, Harry noticed that his friends were unusually subdued. He had tried not to stare, but he hadn't been able to keep from glancing at his friends from time to time during the meal. The announcement about his "death" had nauseated him, and he couldn't muster any enthusiasm for eating. He wanted nothing more than to find his dormitory and collapse into bed. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that until Dumbledore officially brought the feast to a close. He was relieved when the Headmaster stood again at the High Table and called for everyone's attention.

"One last word before we retire. For your own safety, the curfew will be strictly enforced this year. Students are not to be out of their common rooms past nine o'clock in the evening unless accompanied by a staff member. I bid you all a good night." The Great Hall exploded with noise as students rose from their seats to leave. Prefects began calling for first-year students to follow them, and Harry stood and looked around at the Slytherins to find someone to lead him to the common room.

"So you're from Durmstrang?" a voice said at his elbow. Harry had to struggle not to draw his wand out of habit. The speaker was Draco Malfoy, and for once, he had addressed Harry in a manner that was merely curious rather than condescending.

"That's right," Harry replied in as neutral a voice as he could manage.

"Draco Malfoy. I'm one of the Slytherin prefects. Sixth year, same as you." Harry was surprised when Malfoy offered his hand for Harry to shake.

"Evan Jameson." Despite an overwhelming desire to refuse, Harry shook Malfoy's hand firmly. Failure to do so would have been perceived as a slight, and, while that would have been immensely satisfying, Harry had to remember that Evan Jameson had no history with Draco Malfoy. To incite the other boy's ire on his first night at Hogwarts could serve no other purpose than to arouse unwanted suspicion.

"Jameson, welcome to the best house at Hogwarts. I think you'll find most of our members are like-minded when it comes down to it: we like to win. We expect to win the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup this year. Do you play Quidditch?"

Harry could hardly keep a straight face. "A little."

"We have a few openings on the team this year. Tryouts are Saturday, and I'm captain this year," Malfoy said, a look of smug pride crossing his face.

"What positions are open?" Harry asked.

"Two Chasers and the Keeper. What do you usually play?"

"Seeker," Harry replied casually.

"Sorry, that's me. Feel free to challenge me for the position if you want, but as captain the final decision is mine. Come on out anyway. We'll see what you've got. You might like Chaser," Malfoy said patronizingly.

"I'll think about it." Harry hated the thought of being at Hogwarts and not playing Quidditch-- his fifth year had been bad enough-- but at the same time, he couldn't imagine playing Quidditch for Slytherin, especially not against Gryffindor.

"Draco, let's go. I need to feed Patches; she's probably starving by now." Pansy Parkinson had walked up next to Malfoy and was pouting in what she probably thought was a charming manner. Harry thought it was irritating in the extreme.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Pansy. The house-elves will take care of it."

"But Draco, she won't eat unless I feed her by hand," the girl whined. "Let's go."

"Pansy, I don't care if that bloody cat starves. I'll leave when I'm ready. Now shut up; I'm talking." Pansy huffed, but stepped back to wait quietly for him. Malfoy turned back to Harry. "She gets on my nerves, but she has her uses, if you get what I mean." He smirked, and Harry was nearly overcome by revulsion. He hoped that Malfoy would take Pansy and leave, but Malfoy had other ideas. "Come on, we'll show you the way to our common room. You don't want to walk with the first years. I know a few shortcuts."

Harry weighed the idea of having to run to catch up to the fifth-year prefects, who had already escorted the first years out of the Great Hall, versus having to walk with Draco Malfoy. Utter exhaustion finally decided him. He stood and said, "Lead the way."

Malfoy strode towards the doors of the Great Hall. Harry followed behind. Pansy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle joined them. Malfoy made introductions and then indicated that Harry should walk beside him, leaving the other three to follow.

"Why did you leave Durmstrang?" Malfoy asked.

Harry repeated the same story he had told both Hermione and Ginny earlier. The other boy seemed to accept the explanation.

"My father thought about sending me there," Malfoy commented. "You'll have to tell me all about it sometime. Did you play Quidditch for your house team there?"

"I played, but we didn't have houses like you do, just teams. I was on a different team three years in a row."

"Odd," Malfoy said.

They had arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, which on first glance appeared to be a blank stone wall. "Bog Banshee," Malfoy muttered, and a door that was concealed within the wall slid open.

Malfoy's shortcuts had been effective. The group had arrived at the common room ahead of most of the other house members, in spite of the fact that they had left the Hall after the first years. The room was unoccupied save for the presence of several other students Harry didn't know. They peered at him curiously from their seats in front of the fireplace, where they had gathered to talk. Harry nodded politely as he passed; they simply continued to stare.

"The sixth-year dormitory is this way," Malfoy said and pointed down one of two dim corridors that led away from the common room.

Harry followed Malfoy to the next to the last door, which was marked "Sixth-Year Boys' Dormitory." The room was not unlike the dormitory in which he had spent the past five years, except for the lack of windows and an oppressive sense of dampness. The room contained six four-poster beds hung in dark green drapery trimmed with silver. On either side of each bed were a nightstand and a narrow wardrobe. Malfoy pointed around the room to indicate which bed belonged to himself, then which belonged to Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Harry noticed his belongings had been placed neatly at the foot of the sixth bed.

"I'm going back down to the common room," Malfoy said. "Come down after you get settled, if you want."

"Thanks, but I think I'll go straight to bed. I'm exhausted," Harry said. He breathed a sigh of relief when Malfoy nodded and left the room. He could _not_ believe he would be living in the same room as Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle for the next year. _What were you thinking?_ said a little voice inside his head.

__

That I would have had to live in the same room as Ron for the next year, that's what, he answered the little voice. And no matter how bad this situation was, rooming with Ron and not being able to tell him the truth would have been worse. Harry groaned and collapsed onto his bed. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and wake up three weeks ago, before any of this had ever happened. There had to have been a better solution. He could have run away; he could have stood up to Voldemort. . . . _You could have gotten yourself killed for real, _said the little voice again_._

Harry was saved from having to answer himself by a screech from Hedwig, who was anxious to be freed from her cage. He rolled to the end of the bed and reached over to unlatch the cage door, then flopped over onto his back once more as the owl took several turns about the room to stretch her wings. Harry closed his eyes and listened to the soft sounds of Hedwig's feathers. He had nearly drifted off to sleep when she fluttered over to him and nipped his ear harder than she normally did.

"Ouch! What is it, Hecuba?" he asked.

The owl screeched indignantly at him.

"I'm sorry. It was the closest thing I could think of. Besides, I named you after a queen, didn't I?" he asked, as if that should appease her.

Hedwig appeared to consider his words and hooted at him as if to say she forgave him. Then she began pecking at his robes.

"What is it now?" he asked, puzzled by her behavior. Hedwig screeched at him again and then began pecking once more in what Harry finally realized was the vicinity of his wand. He withdrew it from his robes and quickly cast a silencing charm around his bed.

"Right. Almost forgot. Thanks." Harry waved the wand around himself in an intricate pattern and muttered several incantations. It wouldn't do to go to sleep looking like Evan Jameson and to awaken looking like Harry Potter. He then repeated similar incantations over Hedwig. He stroked the owl a few times before she nipped him one last time to say goodnight and fluttered to her perch, which had been placed next to his bed. Harry drew the bed hangings closed. Exhausted from the mental strain of pretending to be someone he wasn't, he then sprawled across the mattress, still fully clothed, and drifted into a restless sleep.


	4. Confrontations

****

Chapter 4 - Confrontations

__

"Haaarrryyy...."

Harry looked around for the voice calling him. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. He was blind.... No, that wasn't right. It was the moonlight. He was outside, and the light of the moon was so bright it was blinding him. He gazed up at it, squinting and shielding his eyes against the glare. It shouldn't be this bright.... Why couldn't he see?

"Haaarrryyy...."

The voice again. He would follow, if only he could see. He stumbled blindly, one arm shielding his eyes and the other thrust before him to feel for obstacles. There were trees; he was in a forest somewhere.

"Harry!"

He recognized the voice this time. It was Ginny. She needed him. He began crashing through the forest as quickly as he could, both arms out before him, squinting against the light of the moon. He didn't understand why it was so bright. It hurt to open his eyes.

"Harry, please!"

"I'm coming! Where are you?" he shouted, but she didn't answer him. He ran faster; he had to get to her. Suddenly, he stumbled, but as he tumbled headlong to the ground, an arm caught him.

"Harry?" It was Ron. "What are you doing here, mate?"

"I...I have to.... Didn't you hear her?" Harry was still squinting, but the moonlight seemed to be dimming somewhat. He could make out the features of Ron's face.

"Yeah, I heard her. And I tell you what...you stay away from her. She doesn't need you. None of us do. You're a liar, and a Slytherin. The Sorting Hat was right about you. She doesn't want to see you. None of us **ever** want to see you again."

Ron shoved him backwards, hard.

"Stop it! You don't understand!" Harry shouted.

"You're right. We don't," Hermione said. "But here, have a butterbeer anyway." She had materialized next to Ron and was walking towards Harry, an open bottle of butterbeer in her hand. Harry realized he was incredibly thirsty. He took the bottle from her and drank deeply. As he swallowed the last drop, Hermione began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You. You're so stupid, Harry. How was the butterbeer?"

Harry suddenly felt a familiar cold creeping over his body. He could hardly draw a breath.

"Harry, do you feel all right?" Ginny asked him, standing where Hermione had been just a moment before.

"Ginny...help...please!" he pleaded, reaching for her.

"I can't..." she whispered, and tears began to trickle down her face as she laughed.

"Leave us alone!" Ron shouted, and he shoved Harry backwards again. Harry found himself falling into a grave that had been dug in the forest....

**__**

WHUMP!

Harry's eyes popped open, and he had the sensation that he had just fallen onto his bed from midair, as if he had been levitating in his sleep. His heart was racing, and his pajamas were soaked with sweat. He was momentarily confused when he saw green and silver drapes around his bed rather than the familiar scarlet and gold. Then he remembered, and he closed his eyes in resignation. This was the Slytherin dormitory. His new home. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch at the thought.

Harry heard a soft hooting and turned to see Hedwig perched on the headboard next to him. She flapped softly down to the mattress and nipped at his hair, as she was fond of doing. Harry thought he could see a look of concern in the owl's eyes. He wondered if he had been talking in his sleep and was glad that he had cast a silencing charm around his bed the night before.

"Good morning," he whispered and stroked the top of the owl's head. He wondered how long she had been perched on the headboard. It gave him comfort to know that she was watching over him. She hooted softly once more. Harry knew she was likely to be hungry, and he was running low on owl treats.

"I'll take you up to the Owlery in a few minutes," he promised her. "I need to get dressed first."

It was early yet, and Harry was the only one awake, which suited him fine. He gathered some clothes and toiletries, then hurried to the bathroom. Within ten minutes, he was showered and dressed. He returned to the dormitory long enough to retrieve his rucksack and Hedwig and was relieved to find that his roommates were all still sleeping.

Harry made several wrong turns in the dungeons on his way to the Owlery. Twice he wound up back at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and once he found himself at the door to Snape's office. Horrified, he turned and walked quickly back the way he had come. The last person he wanted to run into was Snape. Finally, he found his way to the ground floor of the castle and from there proceeded without incident to the base of the West Tower, the top of which housed the Owlery. By the time he had released Hedwig and bid her farewell, the rest of the castle was stirring. He met several other students, three Ravenclaws and a couple of Hufflepuffs, on the way to the Great Hall. He nodded politely, but was again met with odd stares, just as in the Slytherin common room the previous evening. Harry wondered if Dumbledore would allow him to attend his classes wearing his father's Invisibility Cloak. 

__

Upon arriving at the Great Hall, Harry was glad to see that there were only a handful of students present. He chose a seat at the end of the Slytherin table nearest the entrance to the Hall and halfheartedly filled his plate with bacon, eggs and toast. He rummaged around in his rucksack and retrieved the timetable he had only briefly glanced at the day before. His heart sank as he realized his first class of the day was Potions.

"Rough way to start out the week, isn't it?"

Harry was startled to hear a voice over his shoulder, but he didn't need a glimpse of blond hair to know it was Malfoy reading his timetable over his shoulder. "It's never been my favorite subject," he answered noncommittally.

"Don't worry," Malfoy said. "Snape is our head of house. He's a complete git, but he's not as hard on us as he is everyone else. The good thing is, he only accepts people with at least half a brain in his advanced classes. Just being able to get in means you'll do all right. At least this year we won't be stuck with the entire Gryffindor class. Incompetent, the lot of them. Except maybe for Granger, but Mudbloods don't count."

Harry's fists clenched, and he stood up from the table to stand face to face with Malfoy. He had to struggle to contain his temper. "Don't _ever_ use that word in my hearing again. It _offends_ me," he said in a stony voice.

The smirk faded from Malfoy's face, replaced by confusion. "What word?" he demanded.

"Mudblood. My mother was a Muggle-born witch," Harry said furiously.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Really? And what if I told you that I'll say whatever I bloody well please and there's nothing you can do about it?"

Harry smiled coldly. "Then I'd say that nothing would please me more than to wipe the floor with you." Before Malfoy could even blink, Harry had slid his wand out of his robes and was tapping it slowly against his palm.

Malfoy stepped back in surprise, and anger flared in his eyes. For a moment, Harry wondered if "Evan Jameson" would soon be ending his short Hogwarts career by engaging in a duel in the middle of the Great Hall. Suddenly, Malfoy laughed. "You've got a bit of nerve, haven't you, Jameson? I like that."

He started to step around Harry, who stepped in his way again. "I want an apology," Harry said quietly.

Malfoy's face darkened. When he spoke, his voice was low and had an edge to it. "You're new here, and Snape frowns upon fighting within the house, so I'll cut you some slack. I offer my apologies to the memory of your mother. I assume she must be dead, as you spoke of her in the past tense." Harry nodded brusquely, and Malfoy continued. "I warn you now, though, don't push me. You'll regret it."

Harry stood his ground. "Keep in mind what I said, and we won't have a problem."

Malfoy nodded. "Fine. We understand each other, then." Harry stepped aside to allow him to pass, but Malfoy stopped him. "I'll show you the way to Snape's office after breakfast. He wants to meet with you before class." Without waiting for a reply, Malfoy strode off towards the middle of the table, where Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle now awaited him.

As Harry turned back to his seat, his gaze fell on the High Table at the front of the Hall to find that Dumbledore and Snape had both arrived and had witnessed the exchange. When neither of them beckoned him forward, he breathed a sigh of relief and returned to his meal. He wasn't surprised to find that his food had grown cold, but he didn't bother replacing it, as he was no longer hungry--early morning encounters with Malfoy had a negative effect on his appetite. Instead, he pulled out his Potions text and began reading. He had nothing better to do, and he couldn't afford to blow Potions this year. A N.E.W.T. in Potions was mandatory in order to apply for Auror training, which Harry, now more than ever, was determined to do.

Twenty minutes later, Malfoy tapped him on the shoulder and nodded his head at the door. Harry gathered his books into his rucksack and swung it across his shoulder, then followed Malfoy out of the Hall. As they walked out, Malfoy nearly ran over Ginny Weasley, who was walking with Dean Thomas.

"Watch where you're going, Malfoy," she tossed over her shoulder, but then she paused in her stride as she noticed who Malfoy was walking with. Harry watched several emotions play over her face: surprise, dismay and resignation.

"Evan," she said and nodded in his direction. He returned the nod but couldn't bring himself to say her name.

"Come on, Ginny. We don't have much time," Dean said, while tugging gently on the sleeve of her robes. Without another word, Ginny followed Dean to the Gryffindor table. Harry continued towards the dungeons with Malfoy, forcing himself not to look back at her.

"Do you know her?" Malfoy asked him.

"Met her on the train," Harry replied tersely.

"I'd stay away from her, if I were you. Slytherins don't consort with Weasleys. Besides, her brother is the thickest prat you've ever seen. He hears you've been speaking to his sister and he's liable to have a go at you; he's that stupid."

"I can take care of myself," Harry retorted.

"Didn't say you couldn't, but don't say I didn't warn you. They're not worth bothering with, anyway, the lot of them. They're Mug--" Malfoy began, then stopped. Harry knew what he had been about to say and was surprised that he had stopped himself.

"They're what?" Harry asked.

"Most decidedly poor, that's what," Malfoy sneered.

"Are you always this much of a snob?" Harry asked in a tone of disgust.

"I'm a Malfoy. It's what we do," Malfoy said, as if it were the same as having blond hair or a pointy chin. "Come on, Snape's office is this way."

They wandered through the maze of corridors that led to the Potions dungeon. Harry hated it down here. It was dark and dank and smelled of standing water and fungi, just like any dungeon he'd ever imagined when he had read about them in fairy tales as a child. _Only Snape could be happy in an office that was located in a dungeon, _Harry thought. Finally, they had reached the Potions master's office. Malfoy knocked sharply on the door.

"Enter," called a voice from within.

Malfoy opened the door and walked into the room, followed by Harry. Snape was busy scribbling on a piece of parchment. He did not acknowledge their presence. Harry waited impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, until Snape finished what he was writing and looked up at them.

"Malfoy, take this," he commanded and gave Malfoy his professor's edition of the sixth-year Potions text. "Collect the ingredients for sneezing powder from the storeroom. Take your seat when you're finished, and make certain the rest of the class does as well. I'll only be a few moments."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy replied and walked through another door that led to the Potions classroom. Snape seemed to be the only person at Hogwarts who commanded any kind of respect from Malfoy. It amazed Harry to no end.

"Mr. Jameson," Snape said, finally acknowledging Harry. He sounded like someone who had detected a bad odor in the room. 

"Professor Snape," Harry answered neutrally. Harry had hoped that since the professor had taken measures to save Harry's life, they might make an attempt to be civil to one another. Apparently, that was not to be the case. Harry wondered why the man had even bothered. Snape likely could have killed Harry instead of faking his death, and no one would have been the wiser.

"I want to make it very clear that your circumstances do not entitle you to any kind of special treatment from me. I expect nothing less than Outstanding work at all times from my sixth- and seventh-year students. I am astounded that you scored high enough on your Potions O.W.L. to be admitted to this class. You _will_ perform to my highest level of expectation or you will find yourself permanently dismissed from my class so fast that your head will spin. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Jameson?" Snape asked icily.

"Completely, Professor Snape," Harry answered, struggling to keep his ire in check.

"Very well. You may go." 

Harry turned from Snape's desk to walk towards the door to the classroom, but Snape stopped him.

"Mr. Jameson."

"Yes, sir?"

"If you intend to pass this class, I would strongly suggest that you choose to work with Mr. Malfoy, if he is amenable. He has an aptitude for Potions that you are sorely lacking."

Harry did not turn around but answered, "I'll consider your advice, Professor."

Snape snorted in disgust. "Get out of my sight, Jameson."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he shut the office door behind him. Students were beginning to arrive to class. He was dismayed but not surprised to see Ron and Hermione walk in together. They sat at the workstation that Harry used to share with Ron.

Harry saw Malfoy's eyes light with malicious pleasure as he left his own workstation to stand in the aisle near Hermione. "Granger, I'm not surprised to see you here. Disgusted, but not surprised. But you, Weasel," Malfoy's eyes drifted to Ron, "who did you have to do to get in here? Or maybe I should ask, who did Granger do?"

Ron's face turned crimson. He started to get up from his seat, but Hermione's hand on his arm stayed his movements. Harry could hear her whispering, "Ignore him...ignore him," from where he stood, next to the workstation Malfoy had vacated. Unfortunately, Harry knew that wouldn't be the end of the confrontation. Malfoy wouldn't stop until he got some type of reaction from Ron. He should have expected what came next, but nevertheless, he was unprepared.

"I heard what happened to Potter. Damn shame," Malfoy said. Ron and Hermione looked up at him in surprise. "Oh, I meant it was a damn shame I wasn't there to see it," he elaborated and began laughing.

"How dare you?" Hermione shouted.

"You bastard!" Ron yelled simultaneously. He shook Hermione's arm away and leapt off his seat, lunging at Malfoy. He swung wildly. Malfoy was able to avoid the blow easily, and he drew his wand before Ron had a chance to swing again.

"_Infligo_--" Malfoy began.

But by this time, Harry had managed to react. He seized Malfoy's wand before he could finish the incantation, just as Hermione grabbed Ron's arm to prevent him from trying to land another blow. Livid with anger, Malfoy turned and violently snatched his wand back, but as he opened his mouth to tell Harry off, Snape burst into the classroom.

"Enough!" the professor hissed. "Weasley, fifty points from Gryffindor. I will _not_ tolerate common brawling in my classroom."

Ron scowled but did not argue with Professor Snape; he knew better. Harry cringed in sympathy for his friend. The classroom had filled during the exchange, and many of the other students were snickering.

Snape, however, wasn't finished. "Malfoy, twenty-five points from Slytherin. Do not _ever_ draw your wand in my classroom again. Do I make myself clear?" he asked icily.

"Yes, Professor," Malfoy muttered.

"Jameson, Granger, an additional ten points from each of your houses for your interference. It is not your place to involve yourselves in a physical altercation between other students, especially in the Potions classroom. You endangered yourselves and everyone else. I expect better from N.E.W.T.-level students. You should have called for me. All four of you will serve detention here every night this week. I will expect you all promptly at seven. Now, return to your seats immediately."

Harry wasn't surprised Snape had taken points off him; he was only surprised that the professor hadn't taken more. He started to walk past the empty seat next to Malfoy, but he recalled the professor's earlier words to him. Gritting his teeth, he slid into the seat and faced forward, refusing to look in the other boy's direction. At the front of the room, Snape marked the roll and began his lecture.

"Today, we are studying sneezing powder. Can anyone tell me the active ingredient in the powder, what the effects are and what the antidote is?"

As usual, Hermione's arm shot into the air first. Harry's was second. Snape appeared surprised, but he called on Harry. "Mr. Jameson. Do enlighten us," he drawled in a voice tinged with sarcasm.

"The primary ingredient in sneezing powder is ragweed pollen. The powder is used to induce uncontrollable sneezing: the higher the concentration of pollen, the more sneezing. The antidote is a decoction of the leaves, stems and roots of the ragweed plant in a base of dandelion wine. A bit of powdered valerian root enhances the antidote, acting as a catalyst to achieve a quicker result."

"Very good, Mr. Jameson. Ten points to Slytherin." Snape spoke slowly, as if the words were so unfamiliar to him he had trouble getting his mouth around them. Hermione was glancing at Harry with a look of surprise and respect. Ron simply rolled his eyes and ignored him, whispering to Hermione something that Harry couldn't hear. The other Slytherin students whispered congratulations to him.

"Not bad, Jameson," Malfoy muttered next to him in a low voice. Harry ignored him, still disgusted by his comments to Ron. But a small part of him was pleased by the compliments. He had never done well in Potions, and he had partly attributed his lack of success to Snape's hatred of him and the presence of the Slytherins. He wondered if Advanced Potions wouldn't be so bad after all.

Harry managed to make it through the entire class without spilling anything, burning anything or otherwise causing some type of catastrophe. He did his best to concentrate on brewing the antidote for the sneezing powder that Malfoy was blending with a mortar and pestle. At the end of the class, Snape walked among the workstations to witness each set of partners ingest both the powder and the antidote. Malfoy and Harry received full marks. Snape lingered at their workstation after Malfoy went to return their unused supplies to the storeroom. 

"Jameson," the professor began. Harry wondered for a wild moment if Snape would actually compliment him on the day's class work. He should have known better. "The Headmaster would like to see you after classes today," he finished and handed Harry a slip of paper. It read:

__

4:00 p.m.

"pepper imp"

"Thank you," Harry said and pocketed the slip of paper. Professor Snape nodded once and moved on to the next pair. Malfoy returned, and he and Harry cleared off the workstation while waiting for the bell to ring. Malfoy was the first one out of the door after class. Harry waited a few moments before leaving, hoping he wouldn't run into the other boy in the corridor. He had no such luck; Malfoy was waiting for him.

"What was that all about?" Malfoy asked, referring to the note Snape had given Harry.

"The Headmaster wants to see me after classes today," Harry answered.

"Oh. Probably wants to give you the grand welcome speech, make sure you're settling into your classes, blah, blah, blah. What have you got next?"

Harry consulted his timetable. "Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Me, too. It's that way," Malfoy said, motioning down the corridor. "But first," he stepped closer to Harry, eyes alight with menace, "what the hell were you thinking, grabbing my wand like that?"

"You were being stupid, and like Snape said, endangering the rest of the class," Harry answered. "You ought to know how volatile potion ingredients can be. Thanks to you, I've got detention on my first day."

"You wouldn't have detention if you hadn't interfered. Don't _ever_ do that again, unless you want to risk losing a hand," Malfoy said.

"I make it a point not to make promises I won't keep. If you don't want me to interfere, don't do anything else stupid," Harry retorted.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes as if he wanted to continue the argument, but something that resembled common sense took over. "Come on. We'll be late."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Can you believe that greasy git?" Ron complained to Hermione on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Yes, I can. You can hardly blame him, Ron. You were fighting in the middle of a classroom! He didn't have much choice other than to give you detention. I don't know what you were thinking," Hermione chided.

"I was thinking I was defending your honor!" Ron shouted, drawing looks and smirks from other students in the corridor. "And I couldn't let him say that about Harry and get away with it."

"I know, Ron." Hermione's voice had dropped lower, as they had begun to attract attention. "And I understand. I just don't know why you didn't wait until after class. You let your temper get the best of you, and it always lands you in trouble. Besides, I don't give two figs for what Malfoy says. It's rubbish, and everyone knows it."

Ron's only reply was to grumble a few words that Hermione was unable to make out. When they had reached the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hermione pulled him aside before he could enter.

"Ron?"

"What?" he growled.

She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for defending my honor."

Ron's face grew bright red. "You're welcome," he mumbled and followed her into the classroom.

Hermione chose one of the double desks near the front; Ron chose a seat across the aisle from her. The seat next to him, which would have been occupied by Harry, remained empty. Hermione was soon joined by Susan Bones. Most of the sixth- and seventh-year students had opted to take Defense Against the Dark Arts, so the class was exceptionally full. The Slytherins were the last to appear and, as a result, were scattered about the room. When Malfoy and the new boy arrived, Hermione was dismayed to realize that the only remaining empty desk was the one directly behind Susan and herself. Malfoy sneered at Hermione as he passed by, but Evan did not look up as he walked past. They took their seats just as Professor Shacklebolt called the class to order.

"Good morning, everyone. Welcome to N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Several of the students, who remembered Dolores Umbridge's first day of class, chorused back, "Good morning, Professor."

Professor Shacklebolt smiled. "Now, I don't expect you to recite a greeting to me every morning, but thank you." He reached for a stack of parchments on his desk and passed them to Neville, who was seated in front of Ron. "Would you be so kind, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville took the parchments and handed them out as requested. When Hermione received hers, she saw that it was a syllabus of the upcoming year, encompassing all of the chapters in their new text, _Dispelling the Darkness: Practical Application of Detection and Defense Techniques. _She also noticed they were to complete a research project, to be turned in at the end of the year. 

"I understand you've had an interesting time of it the past few years in this class," Professor Shacklebolt said with a smile.

Hermione started to speak up, but Professor Shacklebolt cut her off. "It's all right, Miss Granger. Professor Dumbledore has filled me in on all the details. I believe you covered theory with Dolores Umbridge last year, the Unforgivable Curses, among others, the year before, and dark creatures and elementary self-defense prior to that."

There were several nods and murmurs of assent throughout the room.

"As you can see," the professor continued, "you will be practicing defense techniques this year rather than writing about them. You will also each complete a research project, not just a paper, that will count as twenty-five percent of your final mark in this class." Around the room, students groaned. Only Hermione had a look of excitement. Ron shook his head but smiled.

"Now, it won't be so bad. You will be allowed to work with a partner. But don't get ahead of yourselves," Professor Shacklebolt cautioned, as the students began to murmur to each other. "We will determine who will be paired with whom at a later date. Now, there's just one more item I'd like to discuss before we begin today's lesson. I understand that last year many of you participated in an independent study group led by Harry Potter."

The room was completely silent for several moments. Finally, Hermione answered, "Yes, Professor."

Professor Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "Yes. Well, Headmaster Dumbledore has expressed his desire for this study group to continue. Attendance will be voluntary; membership will be open to all fourth-year students and above. This will be essentially a practice group. I will be supervising, but it is the Headmaster's wish that the group be primarily student-led." Professor Shacklebolt paused for a long moment, as if to collect his thoughts before he continued.

"Ahem. It is primarily in Harry's honor that Dumbledore desires to see the continuation of 'Dumbledore's Army,' as I believe it was affectionately called. I would like to know if anyone is interested in picking up where Mr. Potter left off."

The room was silent for several moments; then Hermione heard several gasps behind her. When she turned, she was surprised to see that Evan Jameson had raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Jameson, isn't it?" Professor Shacklebolt asked.

"Yes, Professor. I'm interested in leading the group. I know I wasn't a student here last year, but I think I can do it."

"Very well, then. See me after class, Mr. Jameson."

Hermione risked a glance across the aisle at Ron. He appeared to be livid; his face was white, but the tips of his ears were scarlet. Hermione tried to catch his eye, but his gaze was leveled at Evan. Hermione knew she would have to act quickly once class was over to prevent Ron from earning another week or more of detention.

"Now, if everyone would please open your textbooks to Chapter One. We will be reviewing the theory and practical use of personal wards. Can anyone tell me the difference between a shield and a ward?" the professor asked.

Several students raised their hands along with Hermione. As she became absorbed in the material Professor Shacklebolt presented, she forgot to be concerned about Ron. The period passed quickly, and before she knew it, everyone was chattering and gathering their books and things in order to leave. Ron wordlessly stuffed his textbook, parchment and quills into his rucksack and left without speaking to Hermione. She gathered her own belongings and hurried after him, only to find he had stopped just outside the classroom door and was leaning against the wall.

"Come on, Ron. It's time for lunch." She reached for his hand and tried to pull him along with her, but he wouldn't budge.

"You go ahead," he told her. "I'll be along in a minute."

"Ron, please don't do this. It's not worth it," Hermione pleaded.

"Well, I happen to think it is." Ron folded his arms against his chest and set his jaw.

"Ron, he couldn't possibly have meant any insult by it. No one else volunteered. He probably just wants to help," Hermione said, although she wasn't certain she believed this herself.

"Right. And Malfoy is a really nice guy deep down inside. Come on, Hermione. You know what they're like. And I won't have it!" Ron said furiously.

"Won't have what?" a new voice asked. It was Evan's, and Professor Shacklebolt was behind him.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?" the professor asked.

"Yeah, there's a problem. There's no way I'm going to stand by and let this git take over the D.A.!" Ron stormed.

"Mr. Weasley, are you interested in leading the group yourself?" asked the professor. "Why didn't you say anything when I asked for a volunteer?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I'm not.... I don't...." Ron stumbled over his words.

"Ron," Hermione broke in gently, "you wouldn't have been happy no matter who had volunteered to take over." Tears gathered in her eyes, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she spoke.

"That's not true," Ron said. Some of the anger had left his face.

"Then who, Ron? And don't say me, because I feel the same way you do. I just couldn't," Hermione said.

"Why don't we do it together?" Evan asked quietly.

"That's not a bad idea, Mr. Jameson," Professor Shacklebolt said. "In fact, I believe it might be an even better idea to invite a member of each house to help head up the group. I expect it will be considerably larger than last year's."

Ron appeared to contemplate the offer for a moment but shook his head. "No. I can't. I...I wouldn't feel right, not without Harry. I have to go," he said abruptly. He turned and quickly walked off, leaving Hermione to make excuses to the professor and Evan.

"I'm sorry, Professor Shacklebolt, but I'm certain you know how it's been for us," Hermione explained, blinking back tears.

"I know, Miss Granger," Professor Shacklebolt said kindly. "We all feel Harry's loss."

Evan looked uncomfortable, and Hermione was embarrassed and angry with herself for nearly breaking down in front of him. She hated to air private business in front of strangers. She cleared her throat and tried to smile as she spoke again.

"I think having leaders from all four houses is a good idea. I'll talk to Ron. He may come around," Hermione said_. It'll be a cold day in hell,_ she thought. She knew how Ron was once his mind was made up about something.

"I hope so. I think it would be good for him. Well, you two had better get down to lunch. I'll see you both in class tomorrow," the professor said, nodding at both of them before leaving.

Evan turned to Hermione. "Listen, I didn't mean to offend either of you. I wasn't thinking. I can tell Professor Shacklebolt I've changed my mind," he offered.

"No, don't do that. If you hadn't volunteered, I don't know if anyone else would have," Hermione said. "You couldn't know what Hogwarts was like last year. This horrible woman.... Oh, I don't have time to explain," Hermione fretted. She wanted to go after Ron, but she felt Evan needed an explanation for Ron's behavior. "About Ron...if it weren't for Harry and the D.A., Ron and I might not even be here. It means a lot to both of us--you understand? I'm certain things will work out, but I need to go after him. See you in class."

Evan nodded and walked away as Hermione turned to follow Ron.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry felt like kicking himself as he carried his books to his room. He couldn't imagine what had possessed him to volunteer to head up the D.A. He located the entrance to the Slytherin common room and muttered, "Bog Banshee."

"Damn, Jameson. You do love to cause trouble, don't you?" Malfoy said behind him.

__

Go away, Harry thought. Out loud, he said, "What do you mean?" as he walked into the common room, followed by Malfoy. They continued towards their dormitory.

"I've never seen Weasley so brassed off. I couldn't have done a better job if I'd tried. That was brilliant!" Malfoy grinned.

"This may come as a surprise to you, Malfoy, but I didn't do it to make him angry. It didn't look like anyone else wanted the job, and I happen to be uniquely qualified," Harry said.

"Is that right? We'll have to discuss your 'unique qualifications' sometime. Right now, it's time for lunch. You coming?"

"I'm not really hungry," Harry answered, even though he was.

"Suit yourself. What have you got this afternoon?" Malfoy asked.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Harry replied. They had reached the sixth-year boys' dormitory, but none of their roommates were inside. Harry wondered what had become of Crabbe and Goyle, but he didn't want to ask about them. He wasn't supposed to know that Malfoy rarely took two steps without his gorilla-like bodyguards.

Malfoy snorted. "Why in the ruddy hell did you sign up for that?"

"Because Divination is for losers," Harry snapped.

"Of course it is, but--oh, never mind. You'll find out. You're on your own there. See you tonight."

"Right. Detention. How could I forget?" Harry asked, his voice full of sarcasm.

Malfoy tossed his books onto his trunk and ambled out of the room. Harry dropped his books as well and sat down on his bed with a sigh. He was at odds with himself. He didn't care to stay by himself in the Slytherin dormitory, as he had two hours until his next class, but he didn't feel like making an appearance in the Great Hall, either. He didn't think he could handle any more questions or awkward situations for the moment. He decided that what he really wanted to do was fly.

Harry reached into the wardrobe and rummaged behind his clothing until he found the item he was searching for: a brand new Nimbus 3000. He hefted its weight with one hand with a mixture of pleasure and sadness. It was a beautiful broom, but it was no Firebolt. He had agreed with Professor Dumbledore that it was best if he put the Firebolt away for safekeeping. It was too distinctive; Harry had been the only student at Hogwarts to own a Firebolt. For Evan Jameson to possess one as well would likely invite unwelcome questions. Harry had agreed readily, not just to ease Dumbledore's concerns, but also because the Firebolt was one of the only things Harry possessed that Sirius had given to him. He didn't know if he would ever be able to bring himself to ride it again.

Harry changed out of his robes and into jeans and a jumper, then swung the broom onto his shoulder and headed out to the grounds. He calculated he could fly for a good hour and a half and still make it back in plenty of time for Care of Magical Creatures.


	5. Tea and Conversations

****

Chapter 5: Tea and Conversations

Harry was grateful that Care of Magical Creatures had been relatively uneventful. He was the only Slytherin enrolled in the class, and, although he had been subjected to numerous scornful glances from Gryffindor students, no one had said anything directly to him that was confrontational. The class had worked with Clabberts that day, which were fairly tame for Hagrid's standards. Harry had avoided Ron and Hermione, which wasn't difficult, as Ron was pretending he didn't exist, and Hermione seemed to want to forget he existed. It suited Harry fine; he didn't feel like getting into another argument about the D.A. so soon. He hoped they would be able to work out their differences at the first meeting.

Care of Magical Creatures was Harry's last class for the day; it ended just in time for him to make it to Professor Dumbledore's office by four, as the note Snape had given him earlier had instructed. He whispered "pepper imp" to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office and stepped onto the spiral staircase as it rose from the ground. Professor Dumbledore was waiting for him.

"Ah, Mr. Jameson. Have a seat." Dumbledore motioned to one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk. Harry sat down in one of them, and Dumbledore sat in one facing him. There was a tea tray on the desk with service for two and a plate of biscuits.

"Would you like some tea, Evan?"

Harry sighed and asked, "Must you call me that here?"

"Yes. It is your name now. It wouldn't do for me to call you one name in private and another in public. Besides, you must get used to reacting to being called Evan Jameson. Becoming used to a new name takes time, so the more practice you have, the better."

Professor Dumbledore poured two cups of tea and offered one to Harry, then nudged the plate of biscuits towards him. Harry accepted the tea but shook his head at the plate of biscuits. Dumbledore shrugged, then took a biscuit for himself. They sipped their tea together in silence, and Harry began to grow uncomfortable until Dumbledore finally spoke again.

"How was your first day?"

"Honestly?"

"I always want you to be honest," the professor replied quietly.

Harry placed the teacup on the desk and leaned forward towards the Headmaster. "How do you think it went? It was horrible. I've been sorted into Slytherin. I'm rooming with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. My best friends are still mourning me, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it. I can't even ride my Firebolt anymore, and everyone has assumed that I must be a Death Eater or a Dark wizard because I'm from Durmstrang, and Ron hates my guts."

"Mr. Weasley doesn't hate you."

"Of course he does. I'm a Slytherin. Gryffindors hate Slytherins; it's in the school handbook. Besides, it's just as well if he does."

"Why do you say that?" the professor asked, sounding perplexed.

"Because I don't think I could stand to be near them and not tell them. It was hard enough yesterday with Ginny," Harry answered. He slumped back in his chair as the weight of the events of the past day and a half sank in.

"Ah, yes, Miss Weasley. I understand you shared a compartment with her on your journey."

"Yes, I did. She couldn't even bear to mention my name. I can't stand seeing her like that, or Ron and Hermione. Professor, I don't think this is going to work. Someone is going to know. And they'll be so angry when they find out."

"Evan, we've discussed this before."

"I know."

~~~~~~~~~~

__

15 August, 1996

Harry had discovered the day after his "resurrection" that he had been Portkeyed to Mrs. Figg's house. The members of the Order of the Phoenix were still using number twelve, Grimmauld Place, as their headquarters, and as they all believed he was dead, Mrs. Figg's house seemed to be the next best place for him. As she was Harry's guardian, her home had been protected for years by the strongest magical wards possible. Professor Dumbledore trusted her to not reveal the truth about Harry's "death" to anyone; she'd been keeping the secret of Harry's location for so long that it made sense she could be trusted with this new secret as well.

Harry was beginning to get cabin fever; he wasn't allowed out of the house under any circumstances. He had to admit, though, that it wasn't as bad as staying with the Dursleys had been, once he became accustomed to the quaint odor. At least Mrs. Figg treated him like a human being. And with the cats around, he had plenty of company, if he wanted it. The trouble was, he didn't really want any company. Dumbledore had attempted to engage him in conversation several times, but Harry didn't want to talk to him. He knew that the Headmaster had his reasons for placing him in this situation, but it didn't make it any less horrible. The people he wanted to talk to most were the very same people who believed he was dead: Ron, Hermione, even Ginny. He would give anything to hear them joke or laugh, or even yell at him for worrying them so. He thought he might go mad, and he didn't understand how Dumbledore could possibly expect him to cope.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry looked up from where he was reading A Tale of Two Cities on the bed in Mrs. Figg's spare room. "Hello, Professor," he replied in a dull voice.

Professor Dumbledore sat down in the same small chair near the bed that he had occupied when Harry had first awakened in this room four days ago. He cleared his throat and then said, "How are you feeling today?"

Harry looked at him as if he were crazy; then he laughed. "Oh, just great, for a dead man. Can't go outside, can't talk to my friends, ever. I might as well be invisible."

"Funny you should say that. I believe I have come up with a way for you to be just that."

"What, invisible?" Harry sat up, intrigued by the notion that he could possibly become invisible without depending upon his father's Invisibility Cloak.

"In a manner of speaking," Professor Dumbledore said cryptically. He handed Harry a book with a worn, deep blue cover. The spine was engraved in gold lettering with the title Camouflaging Your Countenance: An Auror's Guide to Self-Concealment. He watched with a faint twinkle in his eyes as Harry began to examine the gift.

"What's this?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"It's a guide to magically altering your appearance. It contains spells and potions that can effect changes in your face and body for any length of time, from five minutes to fifty years. It's your ticket to a new life, Harry."

"A new life?"

"Harry, you didn't think I would keep you here indefinitely, did you?" Professor Dumbledore smiled sadly when Harry nodded in response. "You must return to school; you still have two years before you leave Hogwarts. You must continue your studies and take your N.E.W.T.s if you expect to enter Auror training."

"Hogwarts? I can't go back to Hogwarts," Harry said, shaking his head fervently.

"Why can't you?" Dumbledore asked sincerely.

"Um, let's see. Maybe because I'm supposed to be dead?" Harry said sarcastically. He was beginning to wonder if senility was a problem among wizards of Dumbledore's age.

"A new name, a new face.... I think with enough preparation, you can manage it."

Harry was unconvinced. "Why can't I just go to one of the other wizarding schools, where no one knows me?"

"I thought you would be more comfortable attending Hogwarts. I felt you had come to think of it as home."

"I do. I just don't think.... I don't understand how this can possibly work. Couldn't I study at home?"

"You could, Harry, but you would be missing out on opportunities to be with other people your own age. You would have to give up playing Quidditch, wandering around the castle in your Invisibility Cloak and causing general mayhem. I'm afraid you would find it quite dull," the professor answered, smiling faintly.

"But Professor...how can I not tell them?"

"I'm not saying it will be easy, Harry. I'm just pointing out that it is likely your best option. There is something else to consider as well: now that you can no longer call the Dursleys' house your home, Hogwarts is the safest place for you. While I won't say that you would be beyond reach, you would be near people who are best able to protect you. I couldn't say the same if you were to attend either Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, even if I sent a companion with you." Professor Dumbledore stood and nodded slightly towards Harry. "I'll leave you to think about it."

He turned to go, but Harry's voice stopped him.

"Wait."

Dumbledore paused in his steps and turned back towards Harry, who closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

"I'll do it."

"Are you certain? Again, it won't be easy."

"No, I'm not certain at all. I think the entire idea is cracked. But I can't stand the thought of **not **being at Hogwarts more than I can't stand the thought of **being** at Hogwarts."

"Very well, Harry. We will begin working on your transfigurations tomorrow. Get some rest tonight."

The Headmaster left without another word, and Harry began paging through the book he had left. He's mad if he thinks I can pull this off, _Harry thought. _Then again, I must be even madder for going along with it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts to focus on what Dumbledore was saying.

"This was the best solution we could come up with, Evan. It's not perfect, and I know it will be difficult. I don't think you would have found it easier at either of the other wizarding schools, however. I still believe that Hogwarts is the safest place for you. You're in familiar surroundings with immediate access to help, should you need it."

"But Professor...this was just the first day. How long am I going to have to keep this up?"

Professor Dumbledore did not answer for a long moment. When he did, finally, his voice was grave. "As long as it takes, I'm afraid."

"You mean until Voldemort is defeated." Harry made this statement with surety and was not surprised when Dumbledore nodded.

Harry closed his eyes in despair, as the enormity of keeping up the pretense of being someone he wasn't weighed heavily on him. _I can't do this,_ a small voice inside his head cried in frustration. But another voice, stronger than the first, said, _You have to._

__

I have to, Harry repeated and, knowing that it was true, resolved to make it through this year, no matter what it took. He opened his eyes to meet Professor Dumbledore's gaze and was cheered by what he thought was a faint look of pride in the old Headmaster's eyes.

"Professor Shacklebolt informed me you volunteered to take up leading the D.A. this year."

"Yes, sir," Harry said apprehensively. He wondered for a moment if Professor Dumbledore was about to forbid him to have anything to do with the D.A.

"May I ask why you would accept such a responsibility? After everything that has happened, I thought you might wish to have a rest this year. As Evan Jameson, you don't have the same types of obligations that your alter ego did."

"Just because you call me Evan Jameson now doesn't mean I'm not still me inside," Harry said, a slight edge to his voice. To his surprise, Professor Dumbledore smiled.

"I'm pleased you've realized that. I had begun to wonder if you ever would."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked.

"It means that it has never mattered that you were Harry Potter, or the Boy Who Lived. Your names have nothing to do with your identity, with the man you are becoming. They never have."

Harry was completely befuddled by the turn the conversation had taken. "I'm too tired to even make sense of that right now," he said.

"You'll understand soon enough. Now, the D.A. will need a practice area. You discussed with Professor Shacklebolt that the club will be open to all fourth years and above?" Harry nodded, and the professor rubbed his hands together in apparent excitement. "Very good. I would suggest meeting outdoors until the weather prevents it. You'll need a large, wide-open space to practice jinxes and counter-jinxes. You plan on inviting members of other houses to help you lead?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, nodding once more. He was enormously relieved that the Headmaster approved of his volunteering to lead the D.A. again and hadn't realized how much the opportunity meant to him until he thought it might be taken away.

"Excellent. I think that's a wise choice. I hope that Mr. Weasley might be amenable to the idea, once he has had a chance to think about it."

"Maybe, but I doubt it." Another thought occurred to Harry. "Professor, is it all right if I try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team?"

"As you are no longer riding the Firebolt, I don't see why not."

"Thanks, Professor." Harry stood to leave, but Dumbledore stopped him.

"One other thing before you go, Evan. You've no doubt noticed that you have a block of time reserved for 'Independent Study' on Mondays and Wednesdays?"

"Yes, sir."

"Those sessions have been set aside for you to resume your study of Occlumency."

"No." The word had escaped Harry's mouth before it had even registered in his brain, but he refused to take it back. Studying Occlumency last term with Snape had been one of the worst experiences of his life; he refused to submit himself to additional mental torment at the hands of the Potions master.

"Evan, this matter is not negotiable. However," the professor raised his hand when Harry would have interrupted him, "I will be conducting your lessons this term."

Harry's protest died on his lips. Studying Occlumency with Professor Dumbledore couldn't possibly be as bad as it had been with Professor Snape. As he looked on, the Headmaster pulled two thick books from the bookshelf closest to his chair and handed them to him.

"We will begin our sessions next week. Take these books, and read the first chapter of each before then," the professor said. "And Evan?"

Harry looked up from the book he had begun paging through.

"Don't be late for detention this evening."

Harry smiled ruefully. "No, Professor. I won't." He tucked the books under his arm and left the office, lost in thought.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Ginny trudged into the Gryffindor common room after her last class, Ron and Hermione were waiting for her on one of the sofas.

"Hey, Ginny. How'd your first day back go?" Ron asked.

"All right, I guess. I can't believe how much homework we have. I have to write three feet of parchment on vanishing and practice vanishing my quills. I have to write another three feet on the properties of the ingredients in the Draught of Peace. Professor Flitwick wants two feet of parchment on the theory behind summoning and banishing charms, and he hinted he might be giving us a pop quiz tomorrow on the material we covered last year, so I've got to revise that tonight, as well. I think they're trying to kill us!"

"You'll be thankful when it comes time to take your O.W.L.s at the end of the year, Ginny," Hermione said in a serious tone.

Ginny looked at her incredulously for a moment. Then she simply shook her head, walked over to an armchair and collapsed, moaning. "Only you would consider impossible amounts of homework as something to be grateful for, Hermione."

"Well, she did get twelve O.W.L.s last year. What can you expect?" Ron asked.

"I'll be happy with half that number." Ginny kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up under her on the chair. "How did your day go? Better than mine, I hope."

"Oh, it was just _loverly,_" Ron said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

__

This can't be good, Ginny thought. As she looked over at her brother, she noticed Hermione rubbing his arm absently. Fascinated, she risked a glance at the other girl's face. Hermione didn't seem to be aware of her own actions, as she was frowning at Ron all the while. Ginny faked a cough to cover the smile that crept across her face, then looked back at Ron, who had slumped against the back of the sofa. "Was it that bad?" she asked.

"Worse," he replied. "First class of the day was Potions. Malfoy was shooting his fat mouth off as usual, and when I did something about it, Snape gave us detention. For a week."

"Ron, what on earth did you do?" Ginny asked, shocked. She knew that Ron, like all the Weasleys (except Percy), caused his fair share of trouble, but it was the first day of classes, for Merlin's sake!

"He slugged Malfoy," Hermione answered, with a note of disapproval as well as one of faint pride. "Well, he tried to, anyway. The ferret saw it coming and ducked."

"Oh, Ron, you didn't," Ginny said, echoing Hermione's disapproval.

"Hell, yes, I did!" Ron retorted angrily. "He was making nasty comments about Hermione. He also thinks that what happened to Harry was funny--said he's sorry he wasn't there to see it."

Ginny sucked in her breath and felt a wave of rage wash over her. "No," she whispered and looked over to Hermione, who nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Ginny's hands clenched into fists. "Good for you, Ron. I would have helped, if I'd been there. I wish you had smashed his face in."

"Hermione and that prat, Jameson, jumped in to stop us. Then Snape came in and gave all four of us detention, and subtracted sixty points from Gryffindor."

"Oh, you're the reason, then. I heard some of the other Gryffindors complaining about that at lunchtime," Ginny said in a small voice.

"So did I," Ron said gloomily. "No doubt they know it was because of me, by now."

"If they do, then they also know the reason, and they won't mind. There isn't a member of this house that wouldn't agree with what you did, Ron," Ginny said.

Ron grunted and looked out the window.

"Are you going to tell her the rest?" Hermione asked him.

"There's more?" Ginny asked.

"Sort of," Hermione answered. "I don't really think it was anything bad, but Ron...."

"Tell me," Ginny said to her friend, when her brother refused to speak.

Hermione took a deep breath and launched into an explanation. "We had Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon with Professor Shacklebolt. Oh, wait until you see the syllabus, Ginny! It looks so exciting. We have independent projects to work on this year, and--"

"That sounds great, Hermione, but what happened?" Ginny asked impatiently.

"Oh, right. Well, Professor Shacklebolt told us he wanted to reinstate Dumbledore's Army. Then he asked for a student volunteer to help organize and lead it." Hermione stopped and looked over at Ron, who stubbornly refused to meet her gaze and, instead, continued to stare out of the window.

"Did Ron volunteer?" Ginny prompted, looking over at her brother.

"Of course not!" Ron answered. "That was.... Harry was.... I won't do it. I can't fill Harry's shoes."

"Ron, no one is asking you to fill Harry's shoes," Hermione said in a soothing tone.

"Aren't they?" Ron retorted angrily. "Do you think I don't know that Harry would have been the bloody Quidditch captain this year? Do you think I don't know he was Dumbledore's first choice for prefect, even last year? It's not...it's not fair," he ground out. "He should have been here."

Ginny's heart ached for her brother, for Hermione, for herself, too. Ron was right; it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Ron and Hermione had lost their best friend, that Remus Lupin had lost Sirius and Harry within months of each other, that Harry had lost his godfather, or that she had lost.... Well, she couldn't possibly compare her loss to Ron's and Hermione's. She stood and stepped over to the side of the sofa that Ron occupied and placed her hand upon his shoulder.

"I know, Ron. I know," she said, squeezing his shoulder. "But don't you think Harry would have wanted these things for you? It's like Mum said. He wouldn't want us to put our lives on hold. He would have wanted someone to carry on with the D.A. I think he would be pleased if it were you."

"Doesn't matter anyway, now," Ron groused. "The D.A. has a new leader."

Surprised, Ginny asked, "Who?"

"Jameson," Ron spat bitterly.

"But Ron, he asked you if you would help," Hermione reminded him.

"No. I won't do it. If he wants a leader from each of the houses, one of you two should do it."

Hermione sighed in defeat and looked up at Ginny. Their eyes met in mutual understanding; Ginny could see that the other girl knew as well as she did that there was no point in arguing with Ron once he had made up his mind about something. Hermione looked back over at Ron and sighed. Ginny noticed that she had not stopped gently stroking his arm during the entire conversation. _It's about time,_ she thought. _Too bad Harry isn't...._

Fortunately, Hermione spoke up again before Ginny could finish that thought. "I can't do it, either," she said. "I'm already overloaded with classes, and Professor Vector sent a note with our Hogwarts letters to let us know we would begin researching our seventh-year theses this year for Arithmancy. I wouldn't possibly have time to help lead the D.A., but I do still plan on being a member." As she finished, Hermione and Ron both looked up at Ginny expectantly.

"Me?" Ginny protested weakly. "But I'm only in fifth year. I have O.W.L.s. And Quidditch. And...."

"And you're brilliant at this kind of thing," Ron finished for her. "Your Bat-Bogey Hex is practically legendary, and you were one of the best students in the D.A. last year."

Hermione added, "And Harry was only a fifth year when he started the D.A. He had O.W.L.s, and Quidditch, too. Not to mention--"

Ginny cut Hermione off before she could continue. "All right, I get the point. Still, surely one of the older students will volunteer?"

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "With Evan being a Slytherin...but you're already friends with him, Ginny."

"Right. And this way you could keep an eye on him."

Ginny glared at her brother. "Ron!"

"What? Someone needs to!"

Ginny rolled her eyes and sat on the arm of the sofa. Her first instinct had been to refuse, hands down. However, the more she thought about the D.A., and how much it had meant to Harry, she knew she had found a small way to repay him for saving her life so long ago. "All right, I'll do it," she said. "But for Harry, Ron, not because you think someone should spy on Evan." Ginny glanced at her watch. "I think I'll try to find Evan before dinner and ask him about it. See you two there?"

"We'll be there," Hermione replied. "I'm going to head upstairs and drop my stuff off, Ron. I'll be back down in a few minutes."

"I'll wait here," Ron said, and he watched her leave before turning to Ginny. "Ginny, about Quidditch, I'm holding tryouts this Saturday for the positions that are open. I expect you to be there."

"Of course I'll be there, Ron. I want to try out for one of the Chaser spots. You know that," Ginny reminded him.

"Chaser?" Ron said incredulously. "Absolutely not. You're the Seeker. I expect you to be there to help me organize everyone and help with tryouts," Ron said.

"But Ron, I can't be the Seeker," Ginny said, shaking her head in denial.

"And why the bloody hell not?" Ron asked, a knowing look in his eyes.

__

Because Harry was the Seeker, and it's not fair, and I can't possibly fill Harry's shoes, Ginny thought, but she saw the look in her brother's eyes and knew that he had her. She couldn't possibly use the very same argument that she had just tried to talk him out of. _Damn. Damn, damn, damn._

"Ron, sometimes I hate you," she stated simply.

"I know, Sis. The feeling's mutual," he said, punching her lightly in the arm as he smiled. "See you at dinner, Gin."

Ginny opened the portrait of the Fat Lady and stepped through into the corridor. She had no idea where she would find Evan at this time of day. She thought the best chance she had would probably be to just head for the Great Hall and hope he showed up early for supper. She wound her way down the grand staircase at a light jog, and, as she approached the second-floor landing, a figure stepped from the archway directly into her path. Unable to stop in time, Ginny smacked into the other person head on and was knocked to the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Ooof!" Harry gasped, when he collided with a rapidly moving, feminine figure. The girl lost her footing and fell backwards, landing on her bum in the middle of the landing.

"Ouch!" said a familiar voice.

Harry looked down and saw that it was Ginny who had run into him. She was rubbing her wrist as if she had injured it and did not seem to have noticed him yet. When she looked up, surprise crossed her features.

"Oh, hello, Evan," she said. "I was just looking for you."

"Hello," he replied and stood there stupidly, as if he had been hit by a stunning spell. He thought he was probably the last person Ginny wanted to speak to, save Malfoy_._ _But, then, why did she say she was looking for me? _he wondered.

"Well, don't just stand there, help a girl up, will you?" Ginny asked, laughing.

Harry shook himself as if he were coming out of a trance. "Oh, um, sorry." He stretched out a hand to her. Ginny grabbed it and pulled herself up off of the floor, then turned to dust off her robes. He noticed she was favouring her wrist. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied. "Sorry about that, wasn't watching where I was going. Where are you headed?" Ginny asked.

"The Great Hall. It's suppertime," Harry answered.

"Of course it is. I was headed there myself. Shall we?" Ginny nodded her head towards the stairs as an indication they should start walking, and Evan fell into step with her. "So, how was your first day at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Long," he replied, keeping his eyes focused on the stairs as they proceeded at a much slower pace than she had previously been travelling.

Ginny nodded. "I heard about what happened in Professor Shacklebolt's class."

"Did you?" Harry stopped and turned to face her. "And I suppose you're going to tell me that I have no business trying to replace the Great Harry Potter, too?" he said, his anger and frustration boiling to the surface almost immediately.

Ginny stepped back, evidently surprised and offended by his words. When she found her voice, her tone was considerably colder. "I wasn't going to say anything of the sort. I _was_ going to ask you if you wanted any help with the D.A. Hermione said you were interested in asking for leaders from the other houses. But if you're going to be a prat about it, then never mind."

Ginny turned to leave, but Harry reached out a hand to her shoulder to stop her. "Wait, please."

Ginny stopped and turned back to face him, her face a mask of stony indifference. She arched one eyebrow and stood with her arms folded, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. "Like I said, it's been a long day. I don't like the Slytherins. They don't like me, and because I'm a Slytherin, no one else likes me, either. I was assigned detention for the rest of the week before my first class even started this morning. I've been getting "eat Flobberworms" looks all day long. Your brother accused me of trying to stage some sort of a coup, and I never bothered to eat lunch, so you can imagine I'm a bit stroppy by this time." He paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "All I wanted to do was try and fit in; that's why I volunteered for the D.A. If you were genuinely offering to help, I would be incredibly grateful. I asked your brother if he wanted to earlier...."

Ginny's features had softened. "Yes, I know. Hermione and I tried talking him into it this afternoon. She thought it would be good for him, but he seems to think it would be dishonouring Harry," Ginny said forlornly.

"And you don't?" Harry asked, uncertain if he was more surprised by Ron's attitude or Ginny's.

"No. The D.A. was important to Harry. I think he would want us to continue in the tradition he started, which was to prepare us for what's out there. I'll be glad to help in any way I can. He...he saved my life once. I owe this to him."

Harry was silent for a long moment; he had no idea now to respond. He was oddly touched by Ginny's willingness to help him, even though he was a Slytherin. He was even more touched by her desire to help him, Evan, out of respect for him, Harry. _Gods, I'm so confused, _he thought.

Finally, he found the words he needed. "Thank you. I appreciate it, more than you know. But, won't your brother be angry with you?"

"No. Actually, he suggested I offer. He doesn't mind if I help, he just doesn't want to be the one. It's hard to explain. Besides, he's Quidditch captain this year, so he's already got a load on his shoulders."

"I see." They had begun walking down the stairs once more and had reached the first floor. Harry opened the door that led to the marble staircase to the ground floor and held it for Ginny as she passed through. "Do you have any idea who else to ask?"

"You might want to consider the prefects from the other houses, although they may be too wrapped up in prefect duties. Still, if it's leadership you want, they would be the best candidates."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said.

"Any idea when the first meeting will be?" Ginny asked.

"Sometime next week. I'm still trying to settle in, you know? Besides, I've got Quidditch tryouts to think about, too."

"Really? Good luck, then. I don't envy you. Malfoy is captain of the Slytherin team this year, from what I've heard." Ginny made a face, then continued. "Ron's already informed us we'll be up at the crack of dawn every morning until our first match. First game of the year is Gryffindor vs. Slytherin."

"I didn't realize you were...on the team." Harry stopped himself from saying "still." "What position are you playing?"

A pained look crossed Ginny's face briefly, but she managed to smile despite it. "Seeker," she answered. "I'm the Gryffindor Seeker."

Harry nodded, smiling. "Are you any good?" he couldn't help asking.

"Not too bad," Ginny answered, her smile growing wider. "You'll see, if you make the Slytherin team. What position are you going out for?"

"I was thinking about Seeker myself."

"But Malfoy is the Seeker for the Slytherin team. I can't imagine he would give that up without a fight."

"He told me I was welcome to challenge him for the position. Before he said that, I had just been planning on going out for whatever was available. I've been told I'd make a fair Beater," Harry said, remembering the first time he'd ever seen a Bludger. "But if he's that cocky...."

"You might as well take him down a peg or two?" Ginny finished for him.

"Something like that," Harry agreed.

"Someone needs to. But, even if you beat him, I doubt he'll give it up. Besides, he's pretty good. Almost as good as me," she said, then added, "especially when he cheats."

"If I beat him, he'll just have to decide whether or not winning the Quidditch Cup is more important than showing off, won't he?"

"Guess so," Ginny said. They had arrived at the Great Hall, and she turned towards him. "I'll see you at the first D.A. meeting, then?"

"Yes. Thanks again, Ginny."

"You're welcome, Evan. Oh, and good luck with tryouts!"

She flashed him a warm smile, then walked over to the Gryffindor table, where Dean was waving at her. Harry took a seat at the end of the Slytherin table, facing them, and watched as Dean greeted Ginny with a smile. The two began chatting animatedly. Soon Ron and Hermione arrived and sat on the other side of the table from Dean and Ginny, sitting next to each other rather than across, as they used to do. Harry looked away and began filling his plate. He hoped he could finish eating before any of the rest of the sixth years from his own house arrived.


	6. Chasers and Seekers

****

Chapter 6 - Chasers and Seekers

The rest of Harry's first week back at Hogwarts hadn't progressed much better than his first day. He spent most of his time alone; no one in any of the other houses wanted much to do with him, because he was new and he was a Slytherin. One or two of his fellow Slytherins had made attempts to draw him into conversation, but mostly they wanted to know about Durmstrang and the Dark Arts. They asked if he knew this spell or that spell, and whether or not Durmstrang was "cooler" than Hogwarts. Harry's replies were terse at best; when he was already annoyed, he was downright rude to them. He knew he wouldn't win any friends in this manner, but he didn't know if he wanted to make friends in Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to share only a few brain cells between them. They spoke mostly in grunts and sentences of three words or less. Nott was usually quiet, but he had shifty eyes. Then there was Malfoy.

Harry was surprised by how civil Malfoy had been to him, especially in light of their exchange on the first morning of classes. He had been certain that Malfoy would take his admission that his mother was Muggle-born and run with it, subjecting Harry to the same disdain and scorn that he had every other student whose blood was "polluted" by Muggle origins. Strangely, Malfoy didn't seem to apply the same standard to Evan Jameson. Harry expected that Malfoy believed he might be useful at some point, with his alleged leanings towards the Dark Arts. He recalled Malfoy's promise to discuss his "unique qualifications" at a later date, and he wondered what the other boy was alluding to.

No matter. It was finally Saturday, and Harry was relieved to not have classes or detention today. Detention had not gone as badly as he had imagined it might. Snape had been in attendance for two hours each night as the students had scrubbed cauldrons, desks, chairs and floors, then sliced, diced, chopped, sifted, ground, poured and measured potion ingredients in their raw states. Snape had insisted up front that there was to be absolutely no talking, at the risk of spending an additional week of detention for each offense. The four of them had taken him at his word, and the time spent in the Potions dungeon had been marked by total silence from the time they entered the door until the time they departed. At the end of the two-hour period, Ron and Hermione left immediately for Gryffindor Tower, while Harry and Malfoy walked directly back to the Slytherin common room. Harry was grateful that Malfoy didn't bother to make small talk once they left the Potions dungeon; by then, both of them were tired and irritable enough that silence was preferable. The one time Malfoy had talked to him was to remind him of Quidditch tryouts.

Harry had awakened early. He was excited at the prospect of playing Quidditch again and wanted to get in an hour or so of practice before breakfast. He had been banned from Quidditch the previous year, save for one game. The year before that, his fourth year, Quidditch had been canceled because of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry felt his return to the pitch was long overdue, and he couldn't wait to go one on one against Malfoy. He was confident he could outmaneuver the other boy, even without his Firebolt. _If only Sirius could be here to watch, _he thought.

Harry stopped short at the thought of his godfather. His stomach felt uncomfortable, and he recognized the feeling as guilt. He felt guilty that he was happy to be playing Quidditch again, when he should be mourning Sirius. Then he mentally slapped himself. Sirius knew how much he loved Quidditch; it was why he had bought Harry the Firebolt in the first place. Sirius would _never _want Harry to forego playing Quidditch in order to mope about. He could almost hear his godfather now: _Give 'em hell, Harry! Show them what a Potter's made of._

__

And by Merlin, I will, Harry thought.

He dressed rapidly in a T-shirt and jeans and pulled a jumper over his head. He thought wistfully for a moment of Molly's warm "Weasley jumpers" that he was no longer able to wear. They were packed away in storage, along with many of his other personal belongings. He couldn't risk bringing them to school. He supposed it wouldn't matter about the jumper today, anyway. After twenty minutes of Quidditch drills, he would be shedding the jumper in favor of the T-shirt beneath. Upon checking his reflection in the mirror, he ran a brush through his unruly hair to no avail, then paused to think whether he had remembered his appearance charms the night before.

As if on cue, he heard a tapping on the door. He stepped across the room to open it and was met with the soft _whoosh _of Hedwig's wings as she flew past him and landed on her perch. He remembered that she had reminded him to reapply the charms last night by bringing him his wand, as had become her habit.

"Good morning, Hecuba," he said to the caramel-colored owl, walking over to stroke her.

She twittered at him, her feathers ruffling. Harry knew she didn't like the new name, and she never passed up an opportunity to remind him of it. Once he had soothed her pique, she held out her leg, to which there was a note attached.

"What have you got there for me, girl?" he asked, untying the note from her leg. He unrolled it carefully and began to read.

__

Dear Evan,

Just wanted to tell you "good luck" out there today. Hope to see you on the field at the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match in November!

Sincerely,

GW

A faint warmth coursed beneath Harry's skin, and he smiled with pleasure. His earlier melancholy forgotten, he fed Hedwig some owl treats, then grabbed his broom and headed out of the dormitory, humming to himself as he walked.

~~~~~~~~~~

The air above the Quidditch pitch was peppered with figures on zooming broomsticks. Ginny was guarding the hoops at one end, watching as three figures approached rapidly, tossing a leather ball among them. One of the figures snatched the Quaffle out of the air and broke away from the other two, swooping directly towards Ginny at top speed. Ginny marked his movements, her muscles twitching in anticipation. As the boy feinted left, then swerved right, she mirrored his movements. Too late, the player realized he wouldn't be able to make his shot. Rather than relinquish the ball to one of his comrades, he doggedly looped around behind the goalposts to set up for another run.

"Creevey!" Ron shouted. Two heads turned his way, and Ron shook his head. "Colin Creevey!" he specified, motioning the boy in his direction.

Colin flew towards him. "'Sup, Ron?" he asked.

"What're you doing up there, mate?" Ron asked. He grabbed the leather ball from the other boy and held it up to him. "Do you know what this is?"

"Of course I do. It's the Quaffle," Colin answered, looking puzzled.

"Right. And what do we do with it?" Ron prompted.

Colin's puzzled frown deepened, clearly indicating he thought Ron had lost his marbles. "We score with it."

"Right. And what do we do with it when the Keeper is all over us and another player has a clear shot?" Ron's voice was icy now.

Colin hung his head and looked chagrined. "We pass it."

"Think you can remember that next time?" Ron snapped.

Colin nodded. "Sorry, Ron."

"Get back up there."

Ron tossed the Quaffle back to Colin, who caught it deftly. As Ron looked on, Colin zoomed back into the air towards the other Chaser hopefuls, pausing in mid-flight to shout something at his brother, Dennis. Ron shook his head. Colin had definite potential; he had a small build, good reflexes and was one of the faster fliers Ron had seen. Unfortunately, he also had a big problem with knowing when to pass the Quaffle to another player. Colin and Dennis had squabbled over who had the clearer shot several times during the course of tryouts. They worked well in tandem most of the time, passing the ball back and forth to avoid opposing players. When it came down to scoring, though, their natural sibling rivalry got the better of them. Ron felt that the brothers could be an asset to the team, but he didn't know if he wanted to risk a family brawl in the middle of a match.

He observed the other hopefuls from his spot in the stands. Ginny, her position as Seeker already secured, had agreed to play Keeper during tryouts so that Ron could focus his attention on the potential players and evaluate them properly. As he watched, Ginny brought the game-play to a halt and motioned to Andrew Kirke to cover her position. She flew towards Ron and hovered in front of him.

"Bit hard on Colin, weren't you?" Ginny asked.

"No," Ron retorted. "He's got to learn if he wants to play."

"Ron, he _will _learn. That's my point--these are just tryouts. Most of these people haven't played on a team before. Pick the ones that have the most potential, and what they don't already know they'll pick up during practice."

"I know. I'm just not sure who.... Bloody hell, I wish Harry were here."

Ginny looked away for a moment, then she leveled her gaze back at Ron. "So do I, but he's not. Ron, you can do this. I know you can. Think of all the games that we've played at home when you did just this: selected the best players for the team. You know by now who has the skills we need. You just have to make the cuts. There's no need to keep them up there any longer."

"I know. Say, Gin, don't you want to be captain?" Ron asked, a note of panic in his voice.

"Ron..." Ginny began, with a note of impatience tinged with humor in her voice.

"I know, I know. Bring them down, and tell them to take five. I'll be over in a moment."

Ginny saluted smartly and flew off to rejoin the other players. Ron returned to the parchment he had been scribbling on and began to make a few last notes.

"Almost done?" a voice asked behind him. Ron turned to find that Hermione had climbed into the stands to join him.

"Almost. I'm filling in the lineup now. The Slytherins have the pitch booked next; we have to be out of their way in a few minutes."

"I know; I saw them waiting over in the courtyard. Malfoy is having a heyday, strutting around like he owns the school." Hermione paused long enough to take a seat next to Ron on the bench. "I heard what you said to Ginny."

Ron looked up from his parchment and met her eyes. "Which part?"

"The part about wishing Harry were here."

Ron looked back down. "Oh. Well, we all know he would have been captain this year."

"Ron, even if that were true, and I'm not saying it is, it doesn't mean you aren't just as capable as Harry," Hermione chided. "You've been playing Quidditch practically since you were old enough to walk, according to Ginny."

"Ginny exaggerates," Ron said shortly.

"She's proud of you. So am I. And she's right; you can do this."

Ron flushed under Hermione's praise. "I'd better get down there. They're waiting on me."

"Go on then. I'll see you at lunch later?" Hermione asked.

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Think I'll have a shower first, and maybe a nap. Half past six came bloody early this morning."

Hermione smiled and rose from the bench, but Ron reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her before she could leave.

"Hey, Hermione?" he said softly.

"Yes?" As she answered, Hermione looked down at their entwined hands momentarily before her eyes returned to meet his.

"Thanks. It means a lot that you, well, that you have confidence in me," Ron said, his voice sounding oddly rough.

"You're welcome," Hermione replied, smiling warmly. She squeezed his hand before she released it. "Now get down there."

Ron watched her climb down from the stands and walk back towards the castle. An odd feeling seeped into his veins, as if someone had slipped some Elixir of Invincibility into his pumpkin juice that morning. He grinned to himself, then gathered up his parchment and quill and climbed down to where the new recruits waited to hear whether they had been cut.

Ron took a deep breath. He hated making speeches but knew he had to say something. "All right, listen up. I want everyone to know that you all did well today. As you know, we don't have enough positions open to keep everyone. I have spots for three Chasers and one Beater. When I call your name, step to the front."

"Creevey, Colin."

Colin grinned widely and stepped to the front of the group.

"Creevey, Dennis."

Dennis whispered, "Yes!" and stepped up next to his brother, nudging him aside. Ron eyed them sharply, and they stilled immediately.

"Mason, Margaret."

The fourth-year girl gave a small squeal of excitement and joined Colin and Dennis.

"Dempsey, Janet."

Janet was also a fourth year. Her classmate grabbed her by the elbow and squealed again, causing Janet's face to bloom red.

The announcements were met with a smattering of applause from the team members and the other candidates. Ron quieted them.

"Again, well done, everyone. I need the new players and the other team members to stick around for a few minutes. Everyone else is dismissed."

Disappointment was evident on some faces, but in general the spirit was one of camaraderie. The four new team members were heartily congratulated by their fellow house members before Ron shooed them off so he could address the team.

"Creevey, Mason and Creevey, you'll be filling the Chaser slots. Dempsey, you're our new Beater," Ron announced.

Jack Sloper had informed Ron at the beginning of the term that he would not be returning to the field, after having managed to concuss himself with his own bat the previous year. Ron had chosen Janet to fill Jack's slot because she had a strong arm and a fearless disposition. She played rough; Ron couldn't wait to see how she performed against Slytherin. The team began chattering quietly, but Ron silenced them again.

"Practices will be from six o'clock to seven o'clock Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings, and from six o'clock to seven o'clock Tuesday and Thursday mornings. We will practice from nine to eleven every Saturday and Sunday morning from now until our first match in November. Any questions?" Ron asked. He was met with complete silence. "Good. We have a lot of work to do if we play to win the Quidditch Cup this year. And make no mistake...we will win." Ron didn't have to add, "_for Harry._" He looked over and saw the Slytherin team gathering on the other end of the pitch. "That's it, hit the showers. See you here in the morning."

Ron turned to see Ginny grinning at him, an expression of pride on her face.

"Well?" he asked.

She clapped him on the back of the shoulder. "Great job, Ronniekins. I knew you had it in you!"

"Thanks," Ron said dryly. "Now go take a shower. You reek!"

Brooms in hand, they loped off to the changing rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry followed Malfoy and the Slytherin Quidditch team onto the pitch, along with the rest of the hopefuls. He could see Ron and Ginny in the distance, heading towards the changing rooms. He wondered how Ron was handling being captain this year and felt an unpleasant pang in his chest. Harry had hoped he would be made captain of the Gryffindor team this year. It was yet another one of the many things his "death" had cost him. He shoved the thought abruptly out of his mind. Ron would make a terrific captain. He deserved it. Malfoy, on the other hand, showed every sign of being a power-mad dictator, feeding off the rush of ordering everyone around.

"You two, bring that trunk over here. You lot, mount your brooms. I want to see twenty laps around the pitch, as fast as you can go. If you want to make this team, I suggest you make it around in less than eight minutes. Crabbe, Goyle, use the time to practice. Merlin knows you need it. Throw Bludgers at each other's faces or something." After Malfoy had rattled off these commands, he turned to Harry. "So, Jameson, decided to go out for Chaser after all, did you?" he asked, smirking.

"I thought I might give it a shot. Of course, I'll take you on for Seeker, if your offer still stands. And if you think you're up to the challenge," Harry added.

Malfoy's smirk faded into something less friendly. "There's just no end to your arrogance, is there?"

"I take after my father," Harry said coolly. "What's your excuse?"

"It's my birthright," Malfoy shot back. "Anyway, it's your funeral. Hope you can live with the humiliation. Let's go."

Malfoy dropped everything but his broom and made to walk to the middle of the pitch.

"Just a minute," Harry called out to stop him. "Why should I bother exerting myself if you don't have any intention of giving me the position, even if I do beat you?"

"Personal satisfaction?" Malfoy said sarcastically.

Harry affected a cocky grin. "And when have you ever known a Slytherin to do anything for nothing more than 'personal satisfaction'?" he asked.

Malfoy's smirk was back. "I haven't. What do you propose, then?"

"If I beat you to the Snitch three out of three times, you give me the Seeker position. Anything less, I'll settle for Chaser."

"Anything less, you settle for nothing," Malfoy retorted.

"Are you certain you want to say that before you've even seen me fly?" Harry countered. He knew Malfoy was a complete git, but he also knew Malfoy wasn't stupid.

"Fine. Anything less than three out of three, and I'll still let you _try out _for Chaser."

"Fair enough."

Harry stuck out his hand to seal the bargain and received an odd look in return. Malfoy finally shook his hand, then stalked over to Crabbe and Goyle and began conferring with them in a low enough tone that Harry was unable to hear what was being said. After several minutes, Malfoy motioned Harry over.

"Ready, Jameson?" he asked.

"Whenever you are," Harry answered.

Malfoy mounted his broom, then kicked off and zoomed upwards at a dizzyingly steep angle. Harry followed suit, and soon the two of them were hovering high above the Quidditch pitch. The rest of the team and the team hopefuls had gathered in the stands to watch. Harry was not surprised to see that Crabbe and Goyle, rather than watching with the rest, had followed them into the air, flying at a lower altitude and batting Bludgers back and forth to each other.

"Didn't say I would make it easy on you, Jameson," Malfoy called out.

The grin upon Malfoy's face could only be described as diabolical, Harry thought. He steeled himself against the beating he was probably about to take and simply nodded in Malfoy's direction. Malfoy looked down and signaled to Pansy Parkinson, who was gazing raptly at him from the sidelines. She emitted an excited squeal, then ran to the trunk and carefully released the Golden Snitch from its compartment. The Snitch shot straight up and hovered high above the pitch for a moment. Harry waited, as did Malfoy.

__

Fffffffffffrrrrrrrrripppppppppp!

The Snitch whizzed between them, circled them once, then rocketed off towards one end of the pitch, swerving and diving erratically. Harry took off after it, with Malfoy close on his tail. Side by side, they trailed the Snitch for several minutes, but it maintained a fifteen-meter lead on them. Harry did his best to concentrate on the speck of gold and to ignore Malfoy, who was ramming into him repeatedly--a favorite tactic of his. Malfoy swerved into Harry's broom again and again, until finally Harry had enough. He closed his fist and drew his arm across his chest, waiting.

__

BAM!

Malfoy rocked his broom into Harry's once more, and Harry was ready. He drove his elbow hard into the other boy's stomach and was rewarded by the sound of a startled grunt of pain. Malfoy clutched his broom handle tight with both hands for a moment, giving Harry just enough of a lead. He sped up, following the Snitch as it dipped up and down. It circled around the hoops at the end of the pitch, and Harry followed, closing the lead meter by meter, reaching out with his right hand, closer, closer...when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

__

THWACK!

Harry attempted a Sloth Grip Roll at the last minute but was unable to avoid the full impact of the Bludger against his shoulder. He didn't think any bones were broken, but the pain was excruciating just the same. He could feel the bruise developing already, and he cursed himself for not having seen the Bludger sooner. Hearing Crabbe's laughter from across the pitch (or was it Goyle's? he couldn't be certain) only fueled his determination. Harry had lost the lead he had on Malfoy, who now resumed his tactic of repeatedly colliding his broom with Harry's. The next time Malfoy made a move, Harry rolled left hard, as if to put some distance between them, but then veered right again and deliberately smashed into Malfoy. The force of the collision caused Malfoy to lose his grip on his broom, and Harry grinned in satisfaction as he watched the other boy fall into an unintentional Starfish and Stick position. While Malfoy was struggling to right himself, Harry put on a burst of speed, following the Snitch as it zipped from one side of the pitch to the other. He closed in on it steadily, until at last he reached out his hand and snatched it from the air. The fluttering wings beat against his hand as he dove for the center of the field.

Malfoy, who had landed just before Harry, scowled. "I ought to disqualify you for cheating," Malfoy complained. "Blatching and cobbing are both against the rules."

Harry said nothing but gave Malfoy a pointed look.

Malfoy shrugged, his trademark smirk appearing once again. "Ready for round two?" he asked.

"We can take a minute, if you'd like," Harry said, struggling not to laugh, as he continued, "to give you a chance to work up a good Sticking Charm. Wouldn't want you to fall off your broom again."

"Think that's funny, do you? We'll see how funny it is when you're the one with a face full of turf. Let's go." Malfoy kicked off once again, his jaw set in determination.

Harry handed the Snitch over to Pansy, then he took to the air again behind Malfoy. Once released, the Snitch shot away rather than up, and Harry dove immediately after it. Malfoy hung back several meters, and soon Harry knew why. Crabbe and Goyle approached from either side, each lightly batting a Bludger before him. This time he was ready for them. Harry remained on course until after they lobbed the iron balls at him, then he pulled up on his broom handle and climbed with all his might. He glanced down in time to watch the Bludgers crash into Crabbe and Goyle, who had not dodged quickly enough to avoid them after Harry had swerved out of the way. Harry laughed and looked around for Malfoy. He spied him hovering above with a look of disgust on his face. _Serves them right, _Harry thought. He resumed his search for the Snitch, avoiding flying close to Malfoy as much as possible. For several minutes the two of them circled the pitch. Then Harry caught a glimmer of gold fluttering near one of the raised stands. He shot forward, only to be blocked by Malfoy, who had parked himself directly in Harry's path.

"Move!" bellowed Harry. The other boy just hovered there, as if daring Harry to knock him over again.

This time, Harry opted for a different tactic. He flew straight at Malfoy as hard as he could, pleased to note a faint look of panic cross the other boy's features as he drew closer and closer. At the last minute, Harry executed another Sloth Grip Roll and dove under Malfoy's broom, reaching out to kick the tail end of it as he passed. Malfoy bobbled but hung on and dove after Harry. Harry flew upside down towards the Snitch and followed it into another steep dive. Malfoy followed, but he was too late. Harry grasped the golden ball once again, a feeling of triumph coursing through his veins.

"Had enough yet?" Harry asked when they had touched down to the middle of the pitch.

"I only have to stop you once, Jameson," Malfoy replied.

"Maybe you should try harder this time," countered Harry.

"We'll see." Malfoy motioned for Pansy to retrieve the Snitch from Harry. Harry kicked off into the air for the last time. Malfoy followed, but instead of climbing straight up, he flew towards the goal hoops at one end of the pitch. He hovered there, waiting, even after Pansy threw the Snitch into the air once more. Harry wondered what he was about, then shrugged as he began his pursuit. He ignored Malfoy completely and focused his entire being on the glimmer of gold as it climbed and swooped, leading him along in mad circles until his head swam from dizziness.

__

Gotta catch it, Harry thought. _For Sirius. He'd be so disappointed...._

Thoughts of his godfather increased Harry's determination. He focused solely on capturing the Snitch, which had shot off in the same direction Harry had last seen Malfoy flying. He pursued, flying at top speed straight across the pitch. When he caught sight of the Snitch again, it was hovering just in front of the goal hoops. Unfortunately, Malfoy was between him and his target, but instead of pursuing the Snitch, _he was flying straight towards Harry. _Harry's jaw dropped in astonishment, but he recovered quickly.

__

Okay, he thought. _If he wants a game of chicken, he's got one._

Harry forgot about the Snitch. He pulled his arms in, gripped his broomstick as tight as he could and flew towards Malfoy with all his might. Closer and closer they flew, and Harry could hear nothing but the wind rushing past him and the blood pounding in his ears. Suddenly, the Snitch appeared between them, hovering in midair, as if it were confused by the two Seekers closing in on it from opposite directions.

__

Three...two...one... Harry thought.

At the last second, the Snitch plummeted straight down, leaving only empty space between Harry and Malfoy. In an instant, Harry made his decision: he flinched first. He rolled upside down once more, then looped around and dove after the Snitch rather than barreling headlong into Malfoy. Malfoy flew right past Harry, which cost him several seconds as he corrected his course and fell into pursuit of the Snitch. Harry continued to dive, rolling sideways, his arm stretched out as far as it would reach. He was rapidly approaching the ground, but this time he refused to alter his course.

__

That Snitch is mine, he thought, and he extended his body well past his balance point to grab the fluttering, golden ball.

"Yes!" Harry shouted triumphantly, as he pulled up on his broom as hard as he could to try to avoid crashing. Unfortunately, he had waited a moment too late to level out of the dive, and the end of his broomstick made contact with the ground, throwing him violently into the air. He did his best to tuck into a ball before he hit the ground himself, rolling over and over again until he came to a stop, having absorbed most of the initial impact with his backside. He lay supine, relaxing little by little, and he exhaled with relief when it seemed nothing was broken.

Two boots stepped up next to his head. Harry opened his eyes to see Malfoy peering down at him smugly.

"Think you'll live, Jameson, or must we carry you to the hospital wing?"

"I'll live." Harry sat up gingerly. Nothing was broken, but his bum would have a hell of a bruise in the morning. He bit back a groan of pain as he climbed to his feet. Malfoy just looked at him, shaking his head.

"Well?" Harry said.

"You're either crazy, or bloody stupid, you know that?" Malfoy said.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've been called either," Harry replied.

"Yeah, well, congratulations. You made the team. First practice is tomorrow morning at eleven. Don't be late."

Harry was astounded. He hadn't expected Malfoy to live up to his end of their bargain. "Just like that?" he asked.

"We had an agreement, didn't we? You beat me to the Snitch three times," Malfoy replied matter-of-factly.

Harry knew there must be some other reason behind Malfoy's geniality. It wasn't possible that he would just hand Harry the Seeker position without a fight, winner or no. A suspicion began to form in the back of Harry's mind, then. "You weren't even trying to win, were you?" he asked.

"No," Malfoy replied, unable to keep from laughing.

Harry couldn't believe that he had unwittingly become the star player of one of Malfoy's pranks. He bit back an angry retort and asked, "Why not?"

"Simple. Our Keeper left last year, and I decided I was the best man to replace him. Easier to keep an eye on everyone that way, especially those two," Malfoy explained, jerking his head towards Crabbe and Goyle. "Don't know how they manage to remember to breathe without hourly instructions."

Harry struggled to rein in his temper, but he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice entirely. "If you already knew you didn't want Seeker, why the hell did you put me through that?" he fumed.

"It amused me," Malfoy drawled. Fortunately, he continued before Harry had a chance to punch him. "Besides, I wasn't going to just give you the position without seeing you fly. I needed to see if you've got what it takes."

"And?" Harry asked.

"I've seen better, but you'll do. I've seen the Weaselette play. As much as it pains me to admit it, she was good last year. Certainly not as good as me, but she's had all summer to practice. And she fights dirty."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"Fond of using her elbows, that one. She's small enough that the referee doesn't usually catch her at it, and those bony little elbows of hers hurt. Our first match is against Gryffindor. You play like you did today, you won't have any trouble with her." Malfoy cut Harry off as he started to reply. "We're through here, Jameson. I've got Chasers waiting to try out. Like I said, practice, eleven a.m. tomorrow. Don't be late."

Harry stifled his irritation at being dismissed by Malfoy and shouldered his broom, nodding once to indicate he understood. He still felt slightly unsettled, as if perhaps there were still something more going on that he didn't know about. Still, he had what he wanted, and as he walked towards the changing rooms alone, he couldn't help smiling.

He was a Seeker again.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Ginny emerged from the changing rooms, she was surprised to find Dean standing outside.

"Hi, Dean," she said warmly. "Waiting on Ron?"

"Oh, um, no," Dean answered. "Not really. How'd tryouts go?"

"Well, you should probably ask Ron, since he's captain. But I think they went all right. I think Colin and Dennis will make excellent Chasers, if they can ever stop arguing long enough to play," Ginny replied, laughing.

"Really? That's great. Did you make Chaser, too?" Dean asked.

"No. Ron wants me to play Seeker," Ginny answered.

"Oh. _Oh,_" Dean said, then, as if he had suddenly remembered the reason Ginny was playing Seeker. "Well, you'll be great, Ginny. That was a fantastic catch you made last year at the match with Ravenclaw."

"Thanks, but Cho wasn't exactly at her best that day," Ginny said, sidestepping the compliment, which made her feel uncomfortable.

"No matter. I think you would have caught it in any case. You know, I heard about what Corner said to you after the game..." Dean began.

"Did you?" Ginny asked.

Dean's eyes widened at her tone, which had grown decidedly cooler. "Um, yeah. Hey, I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to say that...."

He trailed off again, and Ginny became irritated. Michael Corner was not a subject she was happy discussing.

"Yes?" she prompted. She began tapping her foot impatiently and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I just wanted to say that I was glad. No, no," he corrected when he saw Ginny's expression turn to one of anger. "I didn't mean I was glad he insulted you. Just glad that--well, that he was enough of a git to let you get away. So that maybe, um, another bloke could, well, uh, have a chance," Dean finished lamely.

Ginny relaxed her stance, realizing Dean was clumsily trying to go about letting her know that he liked her. "You wouldn't happen to have any particular bloke in mind, would you, Dean?" Ginny asked, now amused rather than angry.

"Well, now that you mention it...I, erm, I was sort of thinking that it would be a nice day to take a walk around the lake. I, well, I wondered if you might want to go with me?"

Ginny was touched by his nervousness. Michael had been much smoother the first time he had asked her to take a walk around the lake. _Dean obviously hasn't had as much practice as Michael, _Ginny thought, and the notion was a comforting one.

"I'd love to, Dean," she replied, smiling.

"Uh, great! That's great! Then, um, let's go."

Dean started toward the well-worn path that led from the changing rooms to the lake. Ginny fell into step with him, pleased that she now wouldn't have to return to the dormitory until after lunch. However, a familiar and, at that particular moment, unwelcome voice stopped her.

"Ginny? Where are you going?" Ron asked. He stood in the doorway of the changing rooms. His posture was that of a big brother checking up on his little sister: stiff and forbidding.

Ginny's heart sank. _Not now, Ron, _she thought. _I don't need this from you right now. _To her brother, she said, "Just going for a walk."

"Can I talk to you for a second? Privately?" he asked, pointedly letting Dean know that he should make himself scarce.

"Dean, why don't you go ahead? I'll catch up in a minute," Ginny said with a smile, but her eyes were glaring daggers at Ron.

Dean nodded and began walking towards the lake by himself. Ginny turned to her brother, her brown eyes bright with fury.

"Ronald Weasley, this had better be good. This is the second time in a week you have embarrassed me this way. What is wrong with you?" she demanded.

"Nothing, Ginny. I just want to know where you'll be, and when you'll be back, so I'll know when to start looking for Dean to kill him," Ron answered.

"_Ron..._" Ginny began, her fury mounting.

"Kidding, Gin," Ron said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "I do want to know where you're going, though. I don't mind if you go for a walk with Dean. He's an all right guy, and he knows I'll hurt him if he hurts you. He's not who I'd have chosen for you--"

"Don't start, Ron. Not now," Ginny interrupted.

She knew what he was going to say. For some strange reason, Ron had always supported her crush on Harry. Ginny thought it was because he knew there was no chance Harry would ever return her affection, and therefore he was "safe." And, too, Ginny thought it was because Ron thought very highly of Harry and knew that if he did someday return her feelings, he could be trusted. That would never be, though, and Ginny didn't want to think about that now. She just wanted to spend a pleasant morning with a friend. Ron would simply have to get used to it.

"I wasn't, Ginny," Ron protested. "All I want to know is where you're going, and when you think you'll be back. I'm your only brother at Hogwarts now. All the worrying falls to me. Not that I never worried before; you know I did. But...things are different, now."

Ginny relented at the somber tone of her brother's voice. "We're just taking a walk around the lake, that's all. It's a beautiful day, and Dean is fun to be with. He makes me laugh. We'll be back for lunch, I promise."

"All right, then. Have a good time, Sis."

"Thanks, Ron."

Ginny swiftly hugged her brother and kissed him on the cheek before running to catch up with Dean, who had paused a discreet distance away. She turned once and waved to Ron, who waved back before trudging up the path to the castle. Dean smiled as she approached, and together they continued towards the lake.

"Sorry about that. You know how Ron is," Ginny apologized.

"I know. So, did you have a good...oh, never mind," Dean broke off. "That's probably not such a good topic."

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Summer." Dean winced, then continued, "I was going to ask how your summer was, but I can only imagine--"

"That it wasn't good," Ginny finished. "No, I can't say that I had a good summer this year, Dean. The first month wasn't too bad, but, well, you know. I hope yours was okay, though."

"It was," Dean said. "Seamus came to visit for a week. We went to a football game. He didn't think much of it, said it was boring compared to Quidditch. You should have heard him: 'Where are the goal hoops? Why don't they just pick the ball up and carry it?'" Dean trailed off when he saw Ginny had a puzzled expression on her face. "I guess you've never seen a football game either, have you?"

"No," Ginny answered. "My dad watched one once. He thought it was fascinating. Then again, he thinks everything Muggles do is fascinating."

"It's great, but Seamus is right. It doesn't hold a candle to Quidditch." Dean cleared his throat and glanced sideways at Ginny. "Um, say, Ginny, I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead," Ginny encouraged, certain she knew what was coming.

"Well, um, Seamus kind of mentioned that Neville may have given you the idea that, erm, well, that I fancy you."

Ginny bit back a smile; she didn't want to embarrass Dean, but she wasn't certain she could speak without giggling, so she simply nodded.

"Erm, well, uh, then Seamus sort of said that Neville told him that you told Ron that you might, uh, that you might kind of fancy me, too," Dean continued.

"Oh," said Ginny. "Now that you mention it, your name did come up during the ride home last term."

"It did?" Dean asked, his face lighting up.

Ginny nodded again. "Yes. Ron was pestering me about breaking up with Michael, said I should choose someone better next time. So I told him I had chosen you."

Dean coughed, but he appeared to be pleased by the news. "Erm, you did?"

"Well, yes. I was mostly just having him on. I hope you don't mind," Ginny teased.

Dean's face fell, but he tried valiantly to cover his obvious disappointment. They were close to the lake now, so he directed his gaze over the water as he spoke. "Oh. Uh, no, I guess not," he said, but his expression indicated that he did, indeed, mind.

Ginny decided it was time to put the poor boy out of his misery. "I mean, I would never dream of seriously telling Ron we were going out when you haven't asked me. Yet."

Dean's head whipped back around to her, pleased surprise blooming on his face. "And if I were to ask? What would your answer be?"

Ginny's grin was sly as she answered, "Well, you'll just have to ask to find out, won't you?"

Dean rolled his eyes and looked out towards the lake once more. They walked several meters before he spoke again. "Um, say, Ginny?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"You know there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon?"

"Yes, I know," Ginny replied, trying hard to keep a straight face.

Dean stopped and turned to face her. "Ginny, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

Ginny could no longer contain her smile. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Merlin, I'm glad that's over with. You like to make things difficult on a fellow, don't you?"

"Sometimes," Ginny replied airily.

"You know, that weekend isn't until November," Dean mentioned.

"True." Ginny felt laughter bubbling up inside her again when she heard Dean sigh in exasperation at her response.

"So, would it be okay if we, well, hung out together before then?" he finally managed.

"We're hanging out now, aren't we?" Ginny asked.

"Um, yeah. I guess we are." Dean looked over at Ginny, who was smiling warmly at him, a spark of mischief in her eyes. He reached over and slipped his hand into hers, and she didn't object.

They walked the rest of the way around the lake hand in hand, before returning to the castle for lunch.

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Yes, I know, it's Ginny/Dean. You didn't really think I'd just forget all about poor old Dean and have Ginny fall madly for Evan right off the bat, did you? Be patient. I'll get there, eventually!

Also, regarding Katie Bell: when I began HPDD, I was writing under the assumption that Katie would have been a seventh year at the same time as Fred, George, Alicia and Angelina. Then, just recently, I noticed for the first time a passage in OotP that indicated that my assumption was wrong (U.S. hardback edition, chapter 26, pg 575 at the bottom) and that only Angelina and Alicia would be leaving at the end of Harry's fifth year. Therefore, I've decided to deal with the conundrum by borrowing a suggestion from my husband (Trystym), who will probably be expanding upon this idea in his story, "Harry Potter and the Singing Professor."

In my story, Katie decided to go Pro rather than sit for her N.E.W.T.s; therefore, she is not attending her seventh year at Hogwarts. Instead, she has been offered a position with the Holyhead Harpies as Chaser, First Reserve. Now, isn't this a fine example of why one should never post a WIP, but instead wait until the darn thing is finished to post it?!


	7. Friends and Enemies

****

Chapter 7 - Friends and Enemies

What have I got myself into? Harry wondered as he gazed upon the sea of faces that were watching him expectantly. It was fortunate that the Room of Requirement automatically adjusted its dimensions to suit the needs of its occupants. Many students were seated upon cushions on the floor; others were standing or leaning against the bookshelves that lined the walls. Harry thought it was possible that every fourth-, fifth-, sixth- and seventh-year student was in attendance at the first meeting of the resurrected D.A., with the exception of Malfoy and his bodyguards. He stood at one end of the room between Professor Shacklebolt and Professor Dumbledore, utterly amazed and completely at a loss for words. Fortunately, Professor Shacklebolt came to his rescue.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to the Defense Association, more affectionately known as Dumbledore's Army," Shacklebolt said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled warmly.

A ripple of laughter crossed the room, and Harry felt his tension begin to ebb away as the professor continued.

"I'll admit, I wasn't expecting this large a turnout at our first meeting, but I'm immensely pleased and hope that you share my enthusiasm about the coming year. I know that a handful of you attended these meetings in secret last year, but this year the Defense Association will meet with the full support of the Hogwarts Headmaster and faculty." Professor Shacklebolt looked over at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, do you have anything to say before we get started?"

"Yes, thank you, Professor Shacklebolt." Dumbledore stepped forward. "As you have been advised, membership in the D.A. is open to the entire student body of fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years. You will not have to pass any tests or prove your proficiency in order to be a member. The only things that will be expected of you are a desire to learn, a willingness to work hard and a commitment to set aside any personal differences before each session so that you may work together in harmony." Several students looked puzzled at Dumbledore's words, but he did not elaborate further. "Now is not the time for speechmaking, and even if it were, I detest making speeches. I will turn you back over to your professor, with whom you are in the best of hands." Dumbledore nodded to Professor Shacklebolt and stepped back, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder as he did so.

In a more solemn voice, Shacklebolt addressed the students again. "The D.A. will be student led, in honor of the tradition begun by Harry Potter last year. Evan Jameson has volunteered to help guide the group, under my direction. Evan?" Professor Shacklebolt gestured Harry forward.

__

Oh, Merlin, Harry thought. _I can't do this. I never should have volunteered._

Many of the students wore puzzled expressions, and Harry knew they were probably wondering why a Slytherin, and a new student besides, had been given the responsibility of leading the D.A. Nearly overcome with nervousness, Harry automatically sought Ron and Hermione in the crowd of faces, but he didn't see Ron towering over everyone or Hermione's bushy hair anywhere. He wondered if perhaps they had decided not to attend. Just as he thought he might begin to hyperventilate, he noticed Ginny watching him from the front row of students seated on the floor, a faint smile gracing her features. Once again, Harry felt the tension coiling in his body begin to release. At least there was one friendly face in the room. He took a deep breath, then began to speak.

"Ahem. I'm Evan Jameson. I know many of you may be wondering why I've volunteered for this job. I can't claim to live up to," Harry nearly choked on his own name, "Harry Potter, but I believe it's important to prepare for what we all know is coming. Um...." Harry paused, glancing back at his professors. "Professor Shacklebolt and I have been talking, and we would like to have a facilitator from each house. Ginny Weasley has already volunteered to be the facilitator from Gryffindor. Now we just need volunteers from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

None of the students raised their hands immediately. Harry's heart sank, but he hoped that once people had a chance to think about it, someone might step up.

"Please think about it, and, uh, just let Professor Shacklebolt know if you're interested. Now, um, we don't have a session planned for this evening, but there are a few more things to mention. While the weather is warm enough, we'll be holding sessions out of doors, near the gamekeeper's hut. First we'll review some of the material covered by the D.A. last year; then we'll follow the syllabus provided by Professor Shacklebolt. The D.A. will also serve to assist sixth- and seventh-year students with their Defense Against the Dark Arts research projects." Harry stopped and scratched his head momentarily. "Um, I think that's all I have for tonight...." Harry trailed off, then noticed Ginny gesturing to him subtly. When he focused his attention on her, she mouthed the words "next meeting" at him. He suddenly felt very foolish.

"Oh, um, the next meeting will be held this Sunday, at two o'clock P.M., and every fortnight after that. Are there any questions?"

Many of the students were talking amongst themselves in hushed voices, but no one raised their hand to ask a question. Professor Shacklebolt stepped forward once more, relieving a grateful Harry of the responsibility of dismissing the assembly.

"That will be all, then, everyone. Be ready to work Sunday afternoon!"

The students began trickling out in groups of two and three, chattering excitedly about the next meeting. Harry heard his name mentioned, along with the words "Durmstrang" and "Dark Arts." He knew many of them were probably speculating about just how much he knew about the Dark Arts, particularly the Slytherins, but he was too glad the meeting was over to fret about it. He gathered up the parchment he had sent around as an attendance sheet and the notes he had written, when a voice interrupted him.

"Nervous?" Ginny asked.

"Um, yeah, a little," Harry answered sheepishly. "Did it show?"

"Not too much," Ginny reassured him. "I would have been nervous, too, in front of all those people. But you did fine. And it looks as if we may have our other volunteers." Ginny gestured to Cho Chang and Ernie Macmillan, who were conversing with Professor Shacklebolt and Professor Dumbledore.

Just as Harry glanced over, Professor Shacklebolt looked up and waved them over to where he stood.

"Evan, Ginny, you'll be glad to know we've found our Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff volunteers. Evan, meet Cho Chang and Ernie Macmillan."

Ernie's handshake was overly firm, and Harry returned it in kind. Cho offered her hand as well, and Harry wondered as he grasped her hand whether she would be able to see through his charade. Did his hands feel different now? Not that they had held hands long enough for her to become familiar with the way his felt....

Harry blushed when he realized that he had held onto Cho's hand longer than was acceptable for a handshake. He released it quickly and noticed that she now had a look of discomfort on her face. "Nice to meet you both," he mumbled.

"Hi, Cho, Ernie," Ginny said, smiling. "Good of you to volunteer."

"Yes," Professor Shacklebolt added, "it was good of all of you, and I appreciate it. Now, I'm afraid it's grown too late to accomplish much else this evening, but the five of us should meet again before Sunday. How does Thursday at seven P.M. sound?"

"That's fine with me," Harry answered. Cho, Ernie and Ginny all nodded in agreement.

"Is there anything we should bring?" Ernie asked, looking to Professor Shacklebolt for an answer.

"I'll provide each of you with the syllabus for the fourth-, fifth-, sixth- and seventh-year Defense students. Make sure to bring your textbooks, too, as well as any other material you may have on the topic. Anything else we need," he continued, looking around, "we'll likely find supplied for us."

"Well, then, see you Thursday evening. It was nice meeting you, Evan," Cho said, smiling.

"You, too," Harry answered. He felt his stomach do a familiar flop and hoped he wasn't blushing again.

Cho and Ernie walked out together, followed by Harry and Ginny, with Shacklebolt and Dumbledore bringing up the rear. The six of them walked through the corridors together, Ernie and Cho chatting quietly with each other. Harry was just preparing to bid the group good night when a booming voice startled them all.

"Good evening, Dumbledore, Kingsley!" the new voice called loudly from behind them.

Harry turned and was astounded to see Professor McGonagall escorting Cornelius Fudge and Percy Weasley through the corridors. Harry glanced at Professor Dumbledore, whose expression remained placid, save for the slight narrowing of his eyes behind his spectacles. Next to Harry, Ginny gasped audibly when her eyes lit upon her brother. Percy, however, seemed not to notice that his sister was present.

"Good evening, Minister, Percy," Professor Dumbledore greeted the newcomers in a neutral voice. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Now, Dumbledore, you know the Ministry is always interested in how things are going here at Hogwarts. Percy and I had some business in Hogsmeade today and thought we would drop by, make sure everything is going smoothly this term." Fudge turned to Professor Shacklebolt. "Looking well, Kingsley. Are you enjoying your new post?"

"Yes, Minister, very much," Professor Shacklebolt replied, nodding.

With a large smile, Minister Fudge looked around at the students, who were gathered behind Professor Shacklebolt. "I take it these fine-looking young people are some of your pupils?"

Shacklebolt nodded. "Indeed they are. We were just meeting in order to plan a study session."

"Really? For what subject?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, Minister," Shacklebolt replied with aplomb.

Harry wondered how Fudge would react to this news. Judging by his fury over the D.A. meetings the previous year, he anticipated an explosion.

He was wrong. Minister Fudge blinked twice, then broke into another smile that, while still wide, did not seem to meet his eyes. "Very good, very good. Study hard, children. And remember, I am personally interested in the success of each and every student at Hogwarts. My door at the Ministry is always open. As a matter of fact, Dumbledore, I wanted to discuss that very matter with you. In order to keep the lines of communication between the Ministry and Hogwarts open, I would like to install a Liaison here."

Beside Harry, Ginny made a strangled noise. Her eyes met Cho's and Ernie's, and Harry could see that they, too, had expressions of astonishment and fear. Even Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed together in a thin line, as if to prevent herself from expressing her own dismay at this announcement. Professor Dumbledore, however, did not appear to be surprised.

"So I read in the late edition of the _Daily Prophet _this afternoon, Cornelius," he said. "In fact, the article in question presented the matter as a _fait accompli._"

Fudge's smile dropped from his face; he appeared flustered. "Harrumph. Yes, well, obviously there must have been some misunderstanding on the part of the editors. They weren't supposed to go to print until tomorrow, after I had spoken with you on the matter."

One of the other students coughed then, and Fudge turned his attention to the group behind Professor Shacklebolt. He focused on Ginny in particular. "Judging by the hair, I'm guessing you must be Arthur Weasley's youngest?" he asked.

Ginny merely nodded in answer.

"Well, now, my dear, no need to worry. Last year was...unfortunate, to say the least, but new evidence has come to light absolving Ms. Umbridge of any wrongdoing. In any case, you can be certain that won't happen again. The needs of the students at Hogwarts are of the utmost concern to the Ministry, and we are determined to facilitate quality education by utilizing every resource available to us." Fudge laughed jovially, then turned to converse with Dumbledore, Shacklebolt and Percy.

"Hogwash," Ginny mumbled under her breath.

Unfortunately, Harry heard her. In an attempt to stifle the laughter threatening to bubble forth, he choked and sputtered. Ernie began clapping him heartily on the back until Harry waved him away.

"All right there, Jameson?" Ernie asked.

"I'm all right," he gasped. "Frog in my throat."

"Jameson?" asked Minister Fudge, turning back towards the group of students. "Dumbledore, this wouldn't be our new transfer student?"

"Yes, Minister," Dumbledore answered quietly. "Meet Evan Jameson."

Minister Fudge thrust his hand forward and pumped Harry's arm up and down enthusiastically. "Pleasure, my boy, pleasure. Known your uncle for years. Shame about his condition. A few months here at home should fix him up right as rain, though, don't you worry."

Harry nodded, surprised. Dumbledore had assured him that the alias they had created for Harry was magically enhanced by a spell similar to the Fidelius Charm, but he hadn't expected Fudge to recognize his name, much less be acquainted with his fictitious "uncle." He hoped that the Minister would get back to the subject at hand, which he did.

"Now," Minister Fudge continued, "the position I'm thinking of would be strictly observational, nothing more. We're changing things around at the Ministry, mixing it up a bit, bringing it into the twenty-first century. Communication is very important. If the lines of communication between the Ministry and Hogwarts had remained open last year, that entire disaster with Dolores Umbridge could have been avoided."

"I see," Dumbledore replied. "And who is your candidate for the position?"

"As a matter of fact, it had occurred to me that young Mr. Weasley here," Fudge gestured towards Percy, "would be perfect for the job."

Percy smiled smugly as Fudge clapped him heartily on the back. Fudge beamed at him, then at Dumbledore, obviously confident of his own genius. Professor Dumbledore, however, appeared less than convinced.

"Indeed. How are you, Percy?" Dumbledore asked, smiling faintly at the former Head Boy.

"Very well, thank you, Headmaster. It's good to be at Hogwarts again, sir," Percy said in his usual pompous manner. He still had not acknowledged Ginny, nor any of the other students for that matter, Harry noticed.

"Dumbledore," Fudge broke in, "I'll have you know that Mr. Weasley has recently been promoted. He is now the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of the Department of Magical Education. I am fully confident that he would serve most admirably as a permanent Liaison between Hogwarts and the Ministry."

"Then congratulations are in order." Professor Dumbledore took note of the four students, who were listening with rapt attention. "Gentlemen, and lady," Dumbledore added, nodding at Professor McGonagall, "I believe we would be more comfortable holding this discussion in my office." He motioned for Percy, Minister Fudge, Professor Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall to precede him down the corridor. Before he followed, he turned and addressed Harry and the others, who were still gaping after them. "As curfew is in less than an hour, I think it would be best if the four of you returned to your dormitories posthaste. Have a good evening." With that, he left.

The four students did not break their stunned silence for several moments after Dumbledore and the others left. Finally, Cho spoke up.

"Ginny, wasn't that your brother?" she asked.

"Unfortunately," Ginny replied shortly.

"But he didn't even--"

"I don't want to discuss it," Ginny broke in. "Sorry, but I'm really very tired, and I have loads of homework I need to finish before tomorrow morning. I need to get back to my common room."

Cho nodded. "Good night, then. See you Thursday." Cho departed, followed by Ernie, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the corridor.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked softly.

"I'm fine," Ginny said curtly. Her face was a mask of stony indifference, but she had paled the instant she had seen her brother, and her color had still not returned. She was visibly trembling, though whether in shock or in anger, Harry was unable to determine.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he persisted.

Ginny sighed. "I'm sorry, Evan. I don't mean to be rude. It's a long story--two years in the making, and I think I would need a week to tell it."

"I don't mind," Harry assured her.

Ginny looked up at him strangely, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "You're not at all like what I've come to expect a Slytherin to be."

"Really?" he asked, laughing.

Ginny laughed, too. "Really," she replied. "You're...nice. They're usually...not."

"I've noticed," Harry said ruefully.

"Listen, I'll tell you about Percy sometime," Ginny said, "but not tonight. I really do need to get back to my dormitory, or I'll never get my homework done. See you Thursday, Evan."

Harry hoped his disappointment didn't show. She was the only non-Slytherin who had spoken to him in a civil manner since his first night back at Hogwarts. He dreaded the thought of returning to his dormitory until he absolutely had to, but he couldn't think of a way to dissuade her from leaving.

"All right. See you Thursday," he said, watching as she began walking down the corridor. Before she could turn the corner, he called out, "Ginny!"

"Yes?" she said, pausing to turn back towards him.

"Um, can I at least walk you to your common room?" Harry asked lamely.

Ginny's brow furrowed. "The locations of the common rooms are supposed to be kept secret from members of other houses. Didn't anyone explain that to you?"

Harry could have kicked himself. He knew very well that the common room locations were to be kept secret. He had simply forgotten for the moment that he was a Slytherin, and as such wasn't supposed to know where the Gryffindor common room was. He tried to play it off. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, guess I forgot."

Ginny shrugged. "No matter, you're new. I think it would be all right for you to walk me to the seventh-floor landing. You could use the exercise," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Harry missed the teasing tone in her voice and took offense at her remark. "What d'you mean?" he asked, looking down at himself. While "Evan" appeared to weigh a few pounds more than Harry did, he was certain he still appeared physically fit. "I'm in fine shape."

Ginny grinned smugly. "Maybe, but as Slytherin's new Seeker, you'll have to be pretty fast to keep up with me!"

Harry's indignation faded, and he returned her jibe with pleasure. "I bet I can fly circles around you any day, Weasley."

Ginny's head tilted to one side, and she gave him an appraising glance. "Cocky, aren't you? We'll find out for certain next month." She looked at her watch, then tugged on the sleeve of Harry's robe. "C'mon, we'd better go. Filch is sure to give us detention if we're caught roaming around after hours."

Pleased by the reprieve she had given him from returning to the Slytherin dormitory, Harry slung his rucksack over his shoulder and followed alongside her. Although his feet knew the path only too well, he made certain to let Ginny lead him. He was surprised she had even agreed to let him walk her as far as the seventh-floor landing. Then again, he had begun to realize that Ginny took a certain amount of pride in doing the exact opposite of what was expected of her.

"Congratulations on making Seeker, by the way," Ginny said, glancing at him as they turned a corner and started down another long corridor.

"Thanks," Harry replied. "I didn't have much competition."

Their footsteps echoed in the stillness, and Harry was suddenly doubly glad she had allowed him to walk her partway to Gryffindor Tower. He didn't like to think of her wandering about this late on her own, but when he glanced over at her, she didn't seem to be bothered by the emptiness of the corridors. She had set a leisurely pace and was twirling a strand of her hair about her right index finger as she talked.

"I heard what Malfoy did. That was a dirty trick--but then, that's Malfoy for you. He never plays any other way. You wouldn't believe the stunt he pulled at one of the matches during my second year."

Harry knew she was probably referring to Malfoy's unfortunate attempt at impersonating a Dementor. He decided to shift the subject to her present rather than his past. "He told me to watch out for you, you know," he mentioned casually.

"He did? What did he say?" Ginny asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"He said you like to use your elbows to 'discourage' the other Seeker during a game," Harry replied, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile.

Ginny looked affronted, then she shrugged. "As if he's one to talk. But I have to admit, it works. Most of the other players don't expect it from me, because I'm a girl, and rather small at that. I can't help it if I was raised with six brothers," she finished with an impish grin.

Harry laughed. "I guess not." He enjoyed the image of petite Ginny Weasley holding her own against and perhaps even besting the six older Weasley boys.

"Have you any?" Ginny asked.

"Any what?"

"Brothers. Or sisters," Ginny added.

"Oh, well, no. There's just me," Harry explained. He fervently hoped she would not continue the line of questioning. The less he discussed his family life, the fewer chances he had of slipping up.

"Lucky you," Ginny said. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. "Oh, I don't really mean that. I love my family, I do. It's just that being the youngest and the only girl.... It's not a good combination, you know? If my brothers could have their way, I'd still be wearing a chastity belt on my fiftieth birthday."

Harry's eyes widened. _Did she just say...?_

Ginny looked up at him and then blushed at his shocked expression. "Oh, um, did I say that out loud?" she asked meekly.

Harry nodded, grinning. This was a side of Ginny he had never seen before. Although she had lost her shyness around him the past year, their conversations usually had been focused on either Quidditch or whatever the current crisis happened to be. He was realizing more and more that Ginny's sense of humor was not unlike that of the twins, whom he missed.

"Well, I didn't.... I mean, it's not like.... Oh, damn. I didn't mean I actually wear one now!" Ginny sputtered.

Harry laughed. "I know what you meant, Ginny. Besides, I don't think they make those anymore."

Ginny's only response was to raise one eyebrow.

Harry stumbled over his own feet and felt his cheeks grow warm. "You don't mean..." he began, laughing weakly. When Ginny nodded, he fell silent. Then he noticed the corner of her mouth twitching, as if she were struggling not to smile, and he caught on. "You're having one over on me, aren't you?"

Ginny burst into laughter. "Had you going, didn't I?"

"You certainly did," Harry answered. "Can we change the subject now, please? I don't fancy discussing women's unmentionables."

"That's good, because I think that's a subject you don't have any business discussing with my sister," a voice said in front of them.

Ginny and Harry halted in their steps just in time to avoid running over Ron, whom they had failed to notice standing beneath the archway of the landing to the Grand Staircase, so engrossed in their conversation were they.

"Ron, what are you doing out here?" Ginny asked, an edge creeping into her voice.

"I was just coming to look for you," Ron answered. "Dean came back almost half an hour ago. Where have you been?"

"Evan and I needed to meet with Professor Shacklebolt and the other student volunteers for a few minutes, which you would have known if you had bothered to attend the meeting," Ginny snapped.

__

So, he really wasn't there, Harry thought. He felt strangely hurt, although he knew he had no legitimate reason to be. Ron had no way of knowing who Harry was, and he had several good reasons to want to avoid both the D.A. and Evan Jameson. Harry's good mood evaporated quickly in the face of yet another reminder that he was a misfit. No longer a Gryffindor, and not really a Slytherin--there just wasn't anywhere that Harry felt he belonged.

__

Except when I was talking with Ginny, he thought. _Then, it didn't seem to matter. _Surprisingly, he had been more comfortable talking to Ginny during their walk to the tower than he had been at any other moment during the entire five years that he had known her. For that matter, Ginny had seemed more comfortable with "Evan Jameson" than she had ever been around Harry Potter. The notion pleased him at first, until it occurred to him to wonder if Ginny always got on well with boys whom she didn't really know. He made a mental note to ask Ron about it, and then he thought, _Oh, wait, I can't._

A set of footsteps sounded in the corridor, and a tall boy ran up behind Ron.

"Ron, wait," Dean began, but then he noticed the other two people standing in front of him. "Oh, hi," he said. When no one else said anything, Dean looked around from one face to another, apparently deciding to try and defuse the situation. "Hey, Ron, guess there's no need to call out the cavalry now, is there?"

Ron ignored him. "Ginny, I've been thinking about this whole D.A. business, and I'm not certain it's a good idea," he said, his voice taking on a distinct "older brother" imperiousness.

Ginny's eyes jerked from Dean back to Ron, and she grew very still. "Ron, it was your idea for me to volunteer to help in the first place. I'm not backing out now."

"But Ginny, think of your O.W.L.s. You're already swamped with homework, and you'll need to start revising soon. Not to mention Quidditch. I just don't think--"

"You're right, Ron. You don't think," Ginny said sharply. "We've already gone over the reasons one of us should do this, and if you aren't going to be the one to do it, then I am."

"Ginny, why don't you go on to the common room. We can discuss this in a few minutes," Ron replied in a voice that clearly indicated he had run out of patience. "Right now, I'd like to have a word with Jameson, if you don't mind."

Even though Ron had addressed his sister, his eyes were focused on Harry's face, as if he was certain that "Evan" would somehow manage to spirit Ginny away to his dark lair beneath Ron's very nose. Harry thought it was high time he gave Ron a piece of his mind about his behavior of late, but Ginny snapped back at Ron before he even had a chance to open his mouth.

"I _do _mind, Ron," Ginny retorted. "You're being an ass, and if you think for one minute that I'm going anywhere, you're sadly mistaken."

As she spoke, Ginny folded her arms and glared mutinously at Ron. Ron wore a similar expression.

"Ginny," he muttered through clenched teeth, "I said, _go inside._"

Harry had never heard Ron use that tone with Ginny, or for that matter, with anyone. Beside him, Ginny's shoulders stiffened in reaction. Although only her profile was visible to him, he could tell that her eyes were now blazing with anger. Any trace of a smile had long ago dissolved, and her face had grown so pale that her freckles stood out in stark contrast to the alabaster of her skin. Harry knew it wouldn't be long before Ron and Ginny's Weasley tempers got the better of them, unless someone intervened. After all, screaming was likely to attract Filch, and the last thing Harry wanted was to serve another week of detention.

"Ginny," he began, reaching a hand to the sleeve of her robe. He dropped it again when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ron's face darken. Once Ginny turned to look at him, he continued, "Curfew, remember?"

Ginny nodded, but before she could reply, another voice spoke softly.

"Evan's right," Hermione said calmly. "It's almost curfew, and Filch will be making his rounds soon. Ginny, didn't you say you needed some help with your Charms essay?"

Ginny appeared to be just as surprised to see Hermione as Harry was. She shot the older girl a sharp look, but Hermione's presence seemed to be just what was needed to defuse the situation. Ginny took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if to calm herself, then turned to Harry with a smile.

"Thank you for walking me back, Evan. I'll see you at the next meeting. Good night."

"Good night, Ginny," Harry replied warmly. He refused to let Ron's attitude put a damper on the best half hour he'd spent since Dumbledore had first informed him of his own demise.

Ginny's smile grew wider briefly. Then she turned and graced Ron with a look that could only be described as murderous. Harry had to struggle not to grin. For a moment, Ron appeared cowed beneath Ginny's fury, before he remembered to retain his "big-brother-in-charge" expression. Finally, Ginny turned to Dean.

"Coming?" she asked.

"Right behind you," he answered, but he didn't move.

Ginny's eyes narrowed once more, and her smile this time was brittle.

"Fine," she stated icily. "Come on, Hermione."

Hermione briefly directed a pointed look at Ron, who schooled his features into an expression of innocence. Hermione rolled her eyes, then disappeared with Ginny through the archway, leaving Harry to face Ron and Dean alone. Harry sighed inwardly, wanting to scream at the top of his lungs that it was him, Harry, and that the two of them were being complete gits. Instead, he steeled his resolve and managed to address them in what he thought was a perfectly rational tone.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" he asked calmly.

Ron turned to Dean and nodded as if to indicate Dean should answer.

"No problem. We haven't met, have we? I'm Dean Thomas."

Dean offered his hand to Harry with his usual friendly smile. Harry accepted it, then answered in what he hoped was an equally friendly manner. "Evan Jameson."

"I know. I was at the Sorting Ceremony," Dean answered.

He was still smiling, but Harry was certain that the smile wasn't quite as friendly as it had started out to be. "Well, nice to meet you, Dean, but as I'm certain you aren't hanging around out here simply to introduce yourself to me, why don't we just get to the point?"

"No point really, I just wanted to thank you for keeping an eye on my girl," Dean said.

__

No point indeed, Harry thought. Dean obviously wanted to make it clear to him that Ginny was off-limits romantically. He decided that he'd be damned if he would give Dean the satisfaction of thinking that he was properly intimidated.

"My pleasure," he answered lightly. Something inside him--Aunt Petunia would probably have said it was the devil--made him smile in such a way that the rest of Dean's smile faded abruptly and his expression hardened.

"See you around, Jameson," Dean said.

He nodded civilly at Harry, then turned to Ron and nodded again ("give him hell," was what Harry imagined he meant). Ron also nodded (a "will do," Harry thought); then he looked back at Harry.

__

Here it comes, Harry thought. And he wasn't disappointed.

The minute Dean disappeared from view, Ron's stance changed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and planted his feet slightly farther apart in a forbidding pose. "Stay away from my sister," he said emphatically, pronouncing each word slowly and clearly, as if he were addressing someone of limited intelligence.

"All I did was walk her back from the meeting," Harry explained, "a meeting you didn't even bother to attend. If you're so concerned about her, perhaps you should have."

"I had other obligations," Ron said. "But you can believe I'll be at the next one, and every one after that, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on you. I'm not going to let you use the D.A. to worm your way into Ginny's good graces," he finished, his voice rising a notch.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, his anger and frustration finally getting the better of him. "We're friends. It's late, and I didn't think she should walk back alone, so I walked back with her. That's _all._"

"Friends?" Ron said incredulously. "You've known her all of a week, and you're friends?"

"It's not unheard of," Harry answered, thinking back to his first year at Hogwarts. He and Ron had become friends before the train had even reached Hogsmeade.

"Maybe not with anyone else. But you're...a _Slytherin,_" Ron said. His expression was that of someone who had detected a foul odor in the air.

Harry took a step closer, unable to keep his anger in check any longer. "What of it?" he demanded in a frigid voice.

Ron paused as if to gather his thoughts. "Look, you're new here. There are things you just don't understand. You may be an okay bloke, but I can't take that chance where Ginny is concerned. She's my sister, and things have happened to her...to us, that you know nothing about. And that's all I'm going to say about it. Leave her alone."

Ron turned without another word, stepped through the archway and was gone. Harry began the trek down to the Slytherin common room, frustrated and angry with his best friend in the world. _If Filch even looks at me cross-eyed, I'll hex him into next week, _he thought. Fortunately, he made it to his dormitory without further incident. Finding himself alone there, he took advantage of the opportunity to refresh his appearance charms, then collapsed into his bed with a groan. However, sleep eluded him until well after his roommates had returned and retired for the night.

****

~~~~~~~~~~

When Ron stepped into the Gryffindor common room, he saw Ginny and Hermione sitting across from one another at one of the study tables. Hermione looked up and smiled as he made his way over to them. Ginny refused to take her eyes off of the parchment spread before her, on which she was scribbling furiously. Ron rolled his eyes and walked around the table to sit next to Hermione. Finally, he couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"Ginny, aren't we a little old for the silent treatment?" he complained.

Ginny did not look up from her parchment but answered, "Tried and true, Ronald."

She said nothing more, but Ron understood her meaning. When they were younger, the point of the silent treatment had always been to see who broke down first and begged their sibling to talk to them out of sheer boredom. Ron had just lost the contest without even putting up a fight, but he didn't care.

"Ginny, you know I'm only looking out for your best--"

Ginny's head snapped up, and she fixed Ron to the spot with a glare that rivaled Molly's deadliest. "Ronald, I am going to say this once, so listen well. I am a big girl, and I am old enough to decide whom I will and will not befriend. You have no say in the matter whatsoever. I do not need you looking over my shoulder or threatening my friends. Or my boyfriends. Or anyone else I come in contact with in any capacity. End of discussion!"

"But Gin--"

Ron never got a chance to finish his sentence. The moment he began speaking, Ginny whipped out her wand and waved it at him with a slashing motion. _"Rictus Occludo!_"

Ron's mouth snapped shut, his lips pressing together in a thin line. It became obvious he was struggling to speak but couldn't. Ginny's hex had completely sealed his mouth shut. Hermione gasped with shock, and Ginny herself looked horrified by what she had done.

"Ginny Weasley," Hermione hissed angrily, "you remove that hex this _instant, _or I will see to it that one hundred points are docked from Gryffindor and that every member of this house knows the reason why!"

Ginny nodded sickly and bit her lip, but she did not speak the words for the counter-hex. She watched helplessly as Ron attempted to pry his mouth open with his fingers, to no avail.

"Ginny..." Hermione began warningly.

"Hermione," Ginny whispered, sounding panicked, "I can't remember the counter-curse!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, then drew her own wand and pointed it at Ron. _"Finite Incantatem,_" she whispered, but nothing happened. Ron's lips remained sealed.

"Ginny, do something!" Hermione whispered, beginning to sound panicky as well.

Ginny wracked her brain for the right words, then noticed that Ron had grabbed a quill and begun scribbling on her parchment. "Oh, thank Merlin," Ginny whispered. Once more she waved her wand, and she spoke the word Ron had written. "_Aperio!_"

With a soft *pop*, the seal on Ron's mouth was released. Ron began working his jaw up and down, relieved to have control over his entire face once again.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to do that; it just slipped out. Are you going to tell Mum?" Ginny asked, praying he wouldn't. Nothing was worse than facing the wrath of Molly Weasley, especially when the offense in question was using magic of a dubious nature on a sibling. All of the Weasley children had learned at a very early age that Molly had zero tolerance for her children aiming curses at one another.

Ron hesitated, but at a sharp look from Hermione, he shook his head. "No, Gin. I won't tell. Let's just forget it, all right?"

"I think I found something that will make you forget all about Evan Jameson," Hermione said.

"What?" Ron asked.

Hermione pointed to the special edition of the _Daily Prophet_ she had been reading and began to read aloud.

__

Minister Speaks on Department of Magical Education

__

Dolores Umbridge has been restored to the Ministry of Magic with full salary, retroactive to the date she was placed on "medical leave." The Wizengamot has found her to be completely blameless in the unfortunate events that led up to the invasion of the Ministry of Magic by several Dark wizards this past June. Despite complaints made by the parents of several students, Ms. Umbridge has resumed her post as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and will continue to assist both him and the Minister of Education.

__

Minister Fudge has assured the Daily Prophet_ that he has the utmost confidence in Ms. Umbridge to carry out the responsibilities of her position. He was heard to state "she has only ever had the best interest of the students of Hogwarts in mind and was following what, to the best of her knowledge, were specific orders from the Ministry of Magic." The Minister also went on to explain that officials had uncovered evidence of possible tampering with his memos and decrees between the time they left his office and the time they arrived at Hogwarts. A full inspection into the Owl Post is currently underway. Minister Fudge assures there is nothing to be concerned over and citizens should continue to use the Owl Post just as they normally would. Possible delays in operation are to be expected, but the Owl Post should be running at full capacity again within a fortnight._

__

"Communication is our primary concern at the Ministry. It is the very lifeblood of our society, for without proper communication, we will stagnate. In the interests of furthering understanding between the Department of Magical Education and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ministry will be establishing a permanent Liaison at the school," the Minister explained at a press conference late Tuesday afternoon. When questioned about the difference between the "High Inquisitor" position Ms. Umbridge held and the new Liaison to the Ministry, Fudge had the following to say:

__

"There is a world of difference. Communication is a two-way street; our Liaison will not only serve by relaying Ministry guidelines, he will also keep us abreast of the needs of both the faculty and students at Hogwarts. Improving the quality of education is foremost in our minds, and we can only succeed by ensuring open lines of communication between the Ministry and Hogwarts. Our candidate for the position is a recent graduate of Hogwarts. He was a student with top marks, a prefect and Head Boy. He is well respected by both the faculty at Hogwarts and by officials here at the Ministry. We expect great things from him."

Hermione trailed off. "There's more, but Fudge is essentially repeating himself for four more paragraphs."

"What a bunch of hooey," Ron mumbled. "Wonder who the Liaison will be?"

"I can tell you that," Ginny answered. "It's Percy."

"You're joking," Ron said. "Please, tell me you're joking."

"I only wish I were," Ginny answered. "He showed up with Fudge after the meeting tonight. You know, the meeting that the two of you promised to attend, but then skived off? Where were you two, anyway?"

Hermione glanced furtively at Ron, who shook his head at her almost imperceptibly. "Not now, Gin," Ron said impatiently. "Something else came up, but we'll be at the next one. Tell us about Percy."

Ginny's eyes flashed as she relayed the details about Percy's visit to Ron and Hermione. "He didn't even bother to acknowledge my presence," she finished, two spots of color appearing on her cheeks.

"Stupid git," Ron said. "Wonder what he's up to?"

"I'm less concerned about what Percy's up to than I am about _that,_" Hermione said, pointing to the passage in the article about the Owl Post.

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"I'm not sure. I just.... It makes me a bit uneasy, that's all."

"The tampering, or the inspection?" Ginny asked.

"Both," Hermione replied, her brow furrowing in concern.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Hermione," Ginny said, yawning hugely. "Merlin, but I'm tired. I think I'll head up to bed. See you in the morning."

Ginny collected her parchments and books and stuffed them into her rucksack. She proceeded across the common room to the stairway without sparing a single glance in Dean's direction, leaving Ron and Hermione to continue studying together.


	8. Keeping Secrets

**Chapter 8 - Keeping Secrets**

Hermione was reviewing her Arithmancy notes for a quiz when the letter arrived at breakfast the next morning. Across from her, Ron, who had been heatedly championing the merits of the Chudley Cannons to a skeptical Dean, stopped in mid-sentence and held up a finger to his friend to shush him as Hermione opened the letter. As he watched, her eyes scanned rapidly back and forth across the parchment, and her brow furrowed in concentration. Finally, she looked up to find him watching her.

"What?" she asked as she folded the parchment back up and replaced it inside the grey envelope.

"Well? It's from Krum, isn't it?" Ron asked.

"Yes, it's from Viktor," Hermione replied coolly.

"Hermione, quit being difficult and tell me what it says. You did ask him about Jameson, didn't you?"

"Oh. Yes, I asked him. He says pretty much the same thing about Evan that Evan said about him--that he didn't know him very well, but that he seemed all right. He says Evan played on one of the other school Quidditch teams, and he thinks he was pretty good."

Ron scowled. "Is that all? Didn't you ask him--"

"If he thought Evan might be a Death Eater?" Hermione finished. "Ron, of course I didn't ask him that."

Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "I know you better than that, Hermione. You would have found a way to ask him something."

"Well," Hermione hedged, "I did ask him if Evan had ever been associated with the Dark Arts that he knew of."

"And?"

"He said no, Ron, not in any context other than their normal classes at school."

"Aha!" Ron said triumphantly. "I knew it! They do teach the Dark Arts at Durmstrang. And you just fell for Krum's innocent act hook, line and sinker, didn't you?"

"Ron, I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. And you're wrong. The only Dark Arts course Viktor mentions as being part of their curriculum is Defense Against the Dark Arts, just like we have."

"Well, of course he wouldn't tell you, would he?" Ron sneered. "Anyway, it doesn't mean anything. He said he didn't know Jameson well, so he probably wouldn't know if he was into the Dark Arts or not."

"Ron, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"What? Hermione, what are you talking about?"

Hermione sighed, having forgotten that Muggle psychology wasn't likely to be a common topic of conversation in the Wizarding world. "I mean, maybe Evan Jameson is nothing more than a transfer student, just like he says he is. I think that perhaps we should just leave it alone. We have more important things to focus on for now. "

"Such as?" Ron asked.

"You have Quidditch. We both have our research projects for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I have my independent study for Arithmancy. Oh, it's so exciting! Professor Vector let us spend the second half of our class in the library yesterday and gave us all access to the restricted section. You won't believe what I found in...." She trailed off suddenly, and looked around as if she wondered whether someone may be listening to them.

"I won't believe what?" Ron prompted.

"Oh, never mind. You aren't interested in Arithmancy anyway, and if we don't finish breakfast soon, we'll be late for class." As she finished, Hermione looked down and refused to meet Ron's eyes again, focusing instead on spooning up the last of her porridge.

Strange, he thought. Ron made a mental note to ask her about the library again later, when there weren't so many people around. Although, knowing Hermione, it was probably just some obscure spell for memory improvement, or reading retention or something else equally boring but guaranteed to help her make the most of her precious study time. He started to turn back to Dean, but was distracted by the sudden appearance of his sister at the table.

"Oh, Merlin, I can't believe I overslept," Ginny panted as she slid into the seat next to Hermione. "Pass the toast, would you, Hermione?"

Ron and Hermione both watched in half fascination and half horror as Ginny took a slice of toast and spread it with a generous scoop of marmalade, then added some poached eggs and a large dollop of porridge before sprinkling the top with two strips of crumbled bacon. She squashed another slice of toast down on top of her creation, wrapped it in a napkin, and then began guzzling down a glass of pumpkin juice. Ron looked over at Dean to see what he thought of Ginny's culinary eccentricities. The look on Dean's face could only be described as admiration. Ron shook his head. The boy obviously had it bad.

Ginny slammed her glass back down on the table and stood, grabbing the napkin-wrapped sandwich and nearly tipping Hermione's juice over in her haste.

"Sorry!" she said. "I've got to run. I have Divination first period. I'll never make it on time!"

Ginny slung her rucksack over one shoulder and dashed back towards the doors of the Great Hall. Dean's eyes followed her as she left, a look of bewildered hurt evident on his face. Without bothering to finish his breakfast, he gathered his own books and stood to follow her.

"See you, Ron," he said as he dashed away, calling for Ginny to wait. Ginny's stride faltered for a moment, but she refused to stop and wait for him. However, Dean caught up to her before she managed to reach the entrance and as Hermione and Ron watched, began what looked like a plea for forgiveness.

"She was pretty upset with him after I managed to coax her into the common room last night, you know. Probably even more upset than she was with you," Hermione commented. "Do you think she'll forgive him?"

"Yeah. Ginny's like Mum...flash-point temper. But once she's exploded, she gets over it and moves on. She rarely holds a grudge. They'll be snogging again by the end of the day, I'll bet."

"Are you okay with that?" Hermione asked.

Ron turned to look at her. "Yeah, I think so. Dean's ok. I just...I always kind of thought she and Harry...."

"I know. So did I," Hermione said wistfully. "But, like you said, Dean's ok. He really likes Ginny." The bell signaling that they only had five minutes left before their first class of the day sounded loudly just then, and Hermione hastily finished the rest of her juice. "Hurry up," she said, motioning to Ron's plate. "Professor McGonagall will give us detention if we're late."

Ron snagged another couple of pieces of bacon to eat on the way, and then together they sprinted towards the Transfiguration classroom. As they climbed the staircase to the first floor, they met Neville coming the other way. When he passed them without a word, Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and then reversed direction to follow their friend.

"Hey, Neville, wait a tick," Ron called.

Neville halted in the middle of the staircase and looked back at them, appearing slightly dazed. "Oh, 'lo Ron, Hermione. Didn't see you. I was just headed for Transfiguration. Where are you two going?"

"Neville," Hermione began gently, "in the first place, you're going the wrong way. And in the second place, didn't Professor McGonagall excuse you from classes for the next few days?"

"Did she?" Neville asked, sounding confused. "I guess I forgot."

Hermione stepped down once and peered more closely at him. He was pasty-faced, and his eyes were red with great dark circles underneath. Hermione looked around for eavesdroppers, then spoke in a low voice.

"You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?" she asked.

Neville shook his head, then swallowed hard and looked down at his feet.

"Who can blame him?" Ron asked. "After Harry.... I don't think I slept for days."

Hermione and Ron had been studying together in the common room the previous evening when Neville had wandered in, looking pale and shaken. Alarmed, Hermione led him over to one of the sofas, afraid he wouldn't make it on his own power. When she had asked him what was the matter, the only thing he had been able to do was hand her a piece of parchment. Hermione was shocked to read that Neville's grandmother had been found dead at her home in Lancashire. Eventually Neville was able to tell them that Professor McGonagall had called him into her office after classes and explained that she had received an owl from his Uncle Algie. When Neville had insisted, she had given him the letter. However, it contained pitifully few details, save that the cause of her death was unknown and that authorities were conducting an investigation.

Hermione had asked, "Neville, what are you doing here? Why didn't Professor McGonagall send you to the infirmary?"

"She...she tried," Neville answered. "I didn't want to go there. I...I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to be with...with family. So I came here."

Tears had sprung to Hermione's eyes and she had grabbed Neville in a fierce hug. Even Ron's eyes had seemed a bit watery, and he had cleared his throat several times. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"You did right, Neville," was all he said. He joined them on the sofa, sitting on the other side of Neville, and together the three of them had sat in silence, numb. None of them said it, but the obvious thought that had crossed their minds was that Neville's gran had been a victim of the killing curse. 

_Will this ever end? _Hermione thought.

When other students began wandering in, she had decided it would be best to put Neville to bed. She followed the two boys up to their dormitory, where she and Ron kept Neville company until he appeared to drift into a restless slumber.

Now, Hermione still found herself unable to find the words to comfort Neville, but she did her best. "Neville, maybe it was just her time. She wasn't young, after all. Death is...a natural part of the circle of life," she finished, cringing at the platitude.

"Maybe," Neville replied, "but she was only 97. I think we all know what happened."

"But why?" Hermione asked. "Why would they--"

She didn't get to finish her sentence because the second bell rang.

"We'd better get to class," Ron said. "If we hurry, maybe McGonagall will give us a pass this time."

"You go ahead, Ron. Tell Professor McGonagall that I'm escorting Neville to the hospital wing. I'm certain she'll understand."

"All right. I'll come by and check in on you later, Neville." Ron attempted a half-hearted smile then started back up the staircase, followed by Hermione and Neville. At the landing, they parted company.

"Don't forget to take notes for me," Hermione called after Ron as he loped off towards the Transfiguration classroom.

Ron waved without looking back to show he'd heard. Hermione turned to Neville, and saw that he was swaying lightly on his feet. She grabbed him by the arm to prevent him from tumbling backwards down the staircase.

"Come on, Neville, let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," she said, gently pulling him in the direction of the hospital wing.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Shush. No thanks necessary. We're family, remember?" Hermione squeezed his Neville's lightly for emphasis.

Neville smiled sadly, his eyes shining. "Right. Family."

Much to Ginny's chagrin, Dean followed her through the castle. She had hoped he would get the message and leave off until they could discuss the matter in private, but he persisted in his attempts to get her to talk to him.

"Ginny, I don't understand. Why are you so angry with me?" he pleaded.

"If you don't understand, I can't help you, Dean, especially not now. I'm late for class." Ginny increased her pace, but with his longer legs, Dean was able to keep up easily. She absolutely refused to be seen running through the castle, with Dean in pursuit. Finally, she rounded on him underneath the entrance to Trelawney's tower.

"Dean Thomas, do you mean to tell me that you have absolutely NO idea why I'm angry?" Ginny demanded.

"It's not that I have no idea. I understand that you're angry about what happened last night with Jameson, I just don't understand why," Dean explained in a bewildered tone.

Ginny sighed heavily and wondered if all boys were completely thick, or if it was only boys that attended Hogwarts, or perhaps even if it was just the Gryffindor boys

"Dean, I expected Ron to behave like a complete prat. He's been suspicious of Evan ever since they met on the train, and he's always been overprotective of me. But you..."

"Ginny, all I did was introduce myself and thank him for walking back with you."

"Dean, I'm not stupid." Ginny's lips pressed together in a thin line, and she gazed steadily at Dean until he could no longer meet her gaze.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly like that," he admitted sheepishly.

"Dean, I know we've only just started going out, but you've known me for four years, now. Have I ever said or done anything that would make you think you couldn't trust me?"

"Of course not, Ginny," Dean protested, "but it's not you I don't trust."

"I think it is," Ginny countered. "I don't think either you or Ron trusts that I'm old enough to make sound decisions about who I choose to be friends with."

Dean was silent for a moment, then he lightly touched Ginny under her chin and tipped her face up towards his. "I trust you, Ginny. I was just...concerned when it took you so long to get back to the common room. I know," he explained when she began to protest. "I understand you had things to discuss with Jameson and Professor Shacklebolt. Still, he's a Slytherin." He paused and placed a finger against Ginny's lips when she would have protested again. "And I wouldn't have been so concerned if I didn't, well, care for you as much as I do."

Ginny's heart melted a little when she saw that Dean sincerely meant what he was saying. Still, she wasn't certain if she was ready for Dean to care quite so much about her. In any case, she didn't have time to think about it now; glancing at her watch, she shook her head when she realized she was already five minutes late for Divination.

"Dean, we'll finish talking about this later, okay? Right now, I really need to get to class."

Ginny was surprised when Dean leaned over and kissed her softly. Her cheeks grew warm, and she looked around to see if anyone was watching. Fortunately, they seemed to be alone in the corridor.

"I'll see you at lunch, then?" he asked.

"Yes," Ginny answered softly, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards in a small smile.

Dean grinned, backing away slowly. He waved once before finally turning around and disappearing around a corner. Ginny returned the wave, then climbed up the rope ladder and was met with the oppressive heat of the Divination classroom. Ginny often wondered if Professor Trelawney deliberately kept the classroom warm in order to distract and disorient her students to the point that they no longer cared whether or not their teacher was competent, so long as the class ended quickly.

_I've got to learn some cooling charms,_ she thought to herself as she crossed over to the table she shared with Luna Lovegood on the other side of the room. Luna was already there, gazing into a crystal ball. Ginny bit back a moan of frustration; she hated the crystal ball. Sometimes she could actually see patterns in tea leaves, at least well enough to fake it. Tarot was simply a matter of memorizing facts and figures about each card, as far as she was concerned. Trelawney had never batted an eye at Ginny's Tarot predictions; she had received special tutoring from Ron on the subject, ever since her third year. Sometimes Harry had helped, too....

Ginny quickly squelched that thought and plunked herself down into the chair across from Luna.

"Good morning," Luna said in a dreamy voice that was not unlike Professor Trelawney's.

"'Morning Luna," Ginny answered. She glanced furtively around the room and determined that Professor Trelawney had not made an appearance in the classroom, yet. _Guess the fates told her she was going to be late today,_ Ginny thought. She took advantage of the opportunity to gulp down the sandwich she had stashed in her rucksack, while Luna stared intently into the cloudy crystal before her.

"See anything interesting?" Ginny asked.

"Mmm-hmm," Luna replied vaguely. "I see a girl. She's fallen madly in love with a tall, dark, handsome stranger. She's going to marry him and have half a dozen children, all boys. Well, it's difficult to tell about the last one. Might be a girl."

Ginny snorted. "Dean's not a stranger. And I'm not ready to book the chapel just yet, Luna."

Luna looked up from the crystal for the first time and gave Ginny an appraising look. "No," she said finally. "I don't suppose you are. Still, he's good company, yes?" style='color:blue'

Ginny smiled. "Exceedingly. So," she said, nodding toward the crystal, "Nothing yet?"

"Nothing. I've never been skilled at crystal gazing. I prefer scrying with water. I think the magical properties of crystals are highly overrated," Luna explained.

"I think it's all bunk," retorted Ginny. "Still, I supposed you'd better let me have a crack at it."

"Of course." Luna pushed the crystal towards Ginny. "Try to come up with something new, though, Ginny. Even Professor Trelawney is unlikely to accept 'mauled by a rampaging Hippogriff' as your dire fate yet again. I have a feeling Ronald overused that one himself."

Ginny nodded and began staring into the crystal, much like Luna had been doing when she had first sat down. After five minutes of seeing nothing but swirling smoke on the inside of the crystal, she leaned back in her chair.

"I give up. I have no inner eye, and I'm glad of it. With my luck, I would probably wind up like Cassandra...no one would believe me," Ginny elaborated, when Luna looked puzzled.

Ginny pushed the crystal back towards Luna, who resumed gazing into it. Ginny watched Luna carefully, and when Luna's eyes began to unfocus, she quietly slipped a piece of parchment from her rucksack and dated it with her quill. Moments later, Luna began muttering softly, and Ginny began scribbling furiously as the other girl described things she could see.

"A cup...shattered on the floor. A card...the Four of Wands. But it looks odd. The wands are all different colors, and no one is dancing."

"What colors?" Ginny asked in a low voice.

"Red, blue, green and gold," Luna answered slowly.

Ginny recorded Luna's response and then waited again. Luna soon continued.

"A shadow."

"Of what?" Ginny asked.

"I can't see. Just a shadow. And...I think...a stag, with a rider." Luna's voice trailed off, and she said nothing more. After a moment her eyes focused on Ginny. "I think that's probably it for the day."

Ginny studied the parchment, wondering what to make of it. "That's definitely one of the stranger sessions you've had," she commented. Ginny started to hand the parchment to Luna, but at that moment Professor Trelawney appeared at her elbow.

"Good morning, dears," she said in her usual misty voice.

"Good morning, Professor," the girls chorused together.

Professor Trelawney took the parchment and tutted as she read over what Ginny had written. "Too much chocolate clouding your vision again, Miss Lovegood? Do try to focus a bit harder. And what about you, Miss Weasley?" she asked, returning the parchment to Ginny.

"I haven't seen anything today, Professor," Ginny responded.

The professor clucked again. "The members of your family seem to have the misfortune of having no more inner eye than most Muggles, I'm afraid," she said absently. "Except for perhaps your brother Percy. He was one of the better students in his year. I hope he has put his talents to good use since leaving Hogwarts. The fates have whispered to me that we may be seeing him again, soon."

_Didn't realize the_ Daily Prophet_ corresponded with the Fates, _Ginny thought. She rolled her eyes and looked out towards one of the windows. She had already been reprimanded once this term for speaking sharply to Professor Trelawney. If it happened again, Ginny was certain she would receive a detention. She bit her tongue until the professor drifted away to the next table. When Ginny focused her gaze on Luna once more, she saw that the other girl had covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

"What are you laughing at?" Ginny growled.

"You," Luna answered. "You shouldn't let her get to you, Ginny."

"I know. Aren't you supposed to be focusing?" Ginny asked pointedly.

"I don't think I'll get anything else today." Luna reached across the table for the parchment and read over the items in her "visions". "You know, I think the chocolate helped. I'll have to purchase more chocolate frogs at Honeyduke's when we go to Hogsmeade." As Luna's eyes continued to scan the page, her brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "I don't know what to make of any of this. Mum was much better at scrying than I am," she said, sighing.

"Do you really see these things in the crystal, and not just in your head?" Ginny asked.

"It's hard to explain. The crystal acts as a focal point. When I see something, I see it everywhere. In my head, in the crystal, right in front of me."

"All I ever see is the smoke."

"Professor Firenze is right...true divination is a rare gift. It isn't a skill you can develop if the ability isn't present to begin with," Luna explained. "It's usually hereditary."

"Guess Trelawney was right, then. I don't recall there ever being a seer in my family. Are you ever going to tell anyone?"

"Not unless I have to. Professor Dumbledore knows, though. Every female child in my mum's line had the sight to some extent, though some less than others," Luna explained, sighing.

"You'll get better, Luna. Want to try again? We've still got half the period left."

"Yes. Oh, before I forget, here."

Luna handed Ginny a rolled up parchment that turned out to be the latest issue of _The Quibbler_, the magazine that Luna's father owned. Ginny looked at Luna questioningly.

"Page 4, but not now," Luna said cryptically. "Trelawney will take it up if she sees it. There's an article in there about Diamond-back Guzzlemaws." When Ginny looked at her oddly again, Luna elaborated, "She collects them."

"The articles, or the Guzzlemaws?" Ginny asked.

"Both," Luna replied matter-of-factly before she resumed peering into the crystal once again.

Harry sat in the back of the Transfiguration classroom. He had made it a point on the first day of class to choose a seat as far from Ron and Hermione as he possibly could. Sometimes he was able to slouch down in just his seat enough that Professor McGonagall did not seem to notice him when she called on students to demonstrate a new incantation. Today, he wasn't so lucky. She was walking around the room from desk to desk, grading each student's attempt at transfiguring a rabbit into a fern. This was their first lesson in transfiguring one life form into another. Harry had been struggling with it all morning, and had yet to complete the maneuver successfully. The most he had been able to do was turn his rabbit slightly green.

It was his turn. The professor stepped up to Harry's desk and nodded at him. "Mr. Jameson?"

Harry took a deep breath, then twirled his wand around in the complicated figure eight motion the Professor had demonstrated at the beginning of the period, and cried, _"Cunniculus filicatus!"_

The rabbit promptly sprouted small fern leaves where once its fur had been. Harry moaned in frustration.

"Perhaps you should move closer to the front of the room, Mr. Jameson. The proper incantation is _'cunniculus filicis.'"_ Keep practicing. I'll be back before the end of the period, and you may try again." She moved on to the next student.

Harry heard snickers to his left, and discovered Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle watching him.

"What are you looking at?" he grumbled.

"That was pathetic, Jameson," Malfoy said between guffaws.

"Then let's see you do any better," Harry said in a low voice. He didn't want to attract Professor McGonagall's attention.

Malfoy smirked, pointed his wand at this rabbit and muttered the incantation. With a soft "whoosh," the rabbit morphed into an attractive potted plant.

"Very nice, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor McGonagall, who had been observing unnoticed. "However, the assignment is to transfigure the rabbit into a fern, not a geranium. Keep trying."

Harry coughed to cover his own laughter at the scowl on Malfoy's face.

"Shut it," Malfoy hissed.

Harry ignored him and went back to work. By the end of the period, he had finally managed to transform the rabbit into something resembling a small fern, though somewhat hairy. He was satisfied when McGonagall gave him 90% for the day.

Unfortunately, Malfoy decided to accompany him to his next class.

"Heard you and the Weaselette were looking cozy after the meeting last night," Malfoy said, grinning.

Harry realized Malfoy's tone implied that they were much more than "cozy," and felt his blood begin to boil at the insinuation. Malfoy had absolutely no business talking about or even thinking about Ginny in that manner.

"She's one of the DA facilitators," Harry said shortly. "That's all there is to it. Professor Shacklebolt and two other students were there, too."

"Except that they left," Malfoy said.

"How would you know?" Harry demanded. No one had been around when he and Ginny had walked to Gryffindor tower. He was certain of it.

"I have my sources. You know, the Room of Requirement can be anything you want it to be. Even a bedroom. Though, I doubt the Weaselette needs much more than a broom closet to do any 'facilitating'," Malfoy said in an oily voice. Crabbe and Goyle, who were following behind them, chortled.

Harry's hand clenched into a fist. Just when he was about to drop his books to swing, Professor Dumbledore interrupted from behind them.

"Mr. Jameson, a word please."

Malfoy sneered, but he left without further comment, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. Deprived of a target for his frustration, Harry turned and punched the stone wall as hard as he could. He hardly noticed the resulting pain in his knuckles, so great was his anger at Malfoy and at the entire word at that moment. Then he turned to Dumbledore.

"Why'd you stop me?" he asked.

"I believe you know the answer to that as well as I do, Evan. Fighting is forbidden anywhere inside or around Hogwarts Castle."

"But the things he said about Ginny...and me.... He's disgusting," Harry finished, looking down at the blood that was now trickling from his hand. His next class was History of Magic; he would be a Slytherin in an entire room full of no one besides Gryffindors. What I wouldn't do for a skiving snackbox right about now, Harry thought.

"You don't look well, Mr. Jameson," Dumbledore said calmly.

"No sir, I'm certain I don't," Harry answered. His hand was beginning to throb a bit now

"Perhaps you should visit Madam Pomfrey, then. I believe she may have the perfect remedy for your hand, and for your headache."

Harry realized then that his head was pounding. It felt as if he was being struck repeatedly by Cornish pixies with miniscule hammers. His shoulders slumped gratefully; he knew he wouldn't have been able to control his temper if anything else had happened today.

"Yes, sir. I think I should," he said, nodding, which had the unfortunate side-effect of causing the pixies with the hammers to re-double their efforts.

"Go ahead then," the professor said. "I will make your excuses to your professors and instruct them to send your assignments for the day by owl. You are excused from classes for the rest of the day, except," Dumbledore continued when Harry began to step away, "except for your independent study with me. I will expect you at 4 o'clock sharp."

"Yes sir," Harry answered.

Professor Dumbledore smiled and bid Harry farewell, then continued on towards the grand staircase ahead of Harry. Harry followed him until Dumbledore disappeared through the door that led to Professor Binns's classroom on the first floor, then Harry continued on to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey applied an ointment to his now swollen knuckles and gave him a pain relieving draught to take with him, with instructions not to swallow it until he had returned to his dormitory, as it would induce drowsiness almost immediately. Once he had reached the safety of his bed, Harry popped the cork on the small bottle and downed the downed the dose in one gulp. He then rolled over and buried his head in his pillow, hoping he wouldn't wake up until the next morning.

Unfortunately, Harry did not sleep until the next morning. He woke from a three-hour nap just in time to attend his Occlumency session with Professor Dumbledore. When he rolled onto his back, he noticed Hedwig was perched on her stand beside his bed.

"Hello, how did you get here?" he asked.

Hedwig squawked and fluttered over to a pile of parchments on Harry's desk, which she picked up and carried back to the bed to drop on his face. He sat up and began sifting through the parchments, then sighed when he realized they were his homework assignments. He shoved them into his rucksack; he could work on them later. For now, he was due at Professor Dumbledore's office.

"Come on," he said to Hedwig. "You can fly back to the Owlery."

Harry held his arm out to Hedwig, and she alit gently upon it. When he made to open the door, it swung open abruptly, and he had to jump back to avoid being hit in the face. He stepped aside to allow Theodore Nott to pass by. Nott was carrying a large book in one arm, which he hastily shoved inside his robes as he walked past Harry.

"Hello," Harry said to the boy.

"Hi," came the terse reply.

"Had a good day?" Harry asked. He thought he might as well attempt to get along with his roommates, as he was stuck with them for the foreseeable future.

Nott turned and gave Harry a typical Slytherin sneer, though it was missing much of Malfoy's virulence. "Look, I'm busy. I have lots of homework, and I don't have time for small talk, so go away."

Taken aback, Harry was only able to mumble, "Sorry," before walking out the door and leaving Nott alone in the dormitory. He thought the boy's behavior was strange, but then again, all Slytherin behavior seemed strange to him. He pushed the incident to the back of his mind as he wound his way around the dreary dungeon passageways. Finally, he reached the ground floor, where he made a detour to the main entrance to the castle in order to allow Hedwig the chance to stretch her wings. She would be able to reach the Owlery on her own from outside.

"See you soon, Hecuba," he whispered to the owl, scratching her head affectionately before releasing her. He watched her take flight, squinting up against the afternoon sun until her dark coat became a speck in the bright sky. He then scrambled to make it to Professor Dumbledore's office by the appointed time. When he reached the stone gargoyle, Dumbledore was waiting for him.

"Good afternoon, Evan. Has your headache abated?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine now, thanks."

"Good, good. Then you're ready to begin. I've decided we should practice somewhere besides my office today. It's so cramped with all of my oddments, we wouldn't be able to concentrate."

Harry was confused when Dumbledore ushered him into the alcove behind the gargoyle. Perhaps Dumbledore needed to retrieve something from his office before they could begin the lesson?

Then Dumbledore said, "Cockroach Cluster."

With a rumble of stone on stone, the floor beneath them shifted slowly downward until Harry could see that the spiral staircase descended into a narrow passageway extending below the surface of the floor. Harry was oddly pleased; here was a secret that Fred, George and probably even the Marauders had never known about.

At the bottom of the staircase was a wooden doorway that opened into a spacious sitting room, decorated in earthy shades of brown and gold. Well-cushioned chairs and sofas replete with squashy pillows were placed haphazardly about at odd angles to one another. Beneath Harry's feet was a lush, thickly padded carpet, which absorbed the impact of his steps so completely that he was able to glide across the room without making a sound. Along the walls were several landscape paintings, some of which illustrated certain vantage points at or near Hogwarts Castle. At the opposite end of the room, Harry spied an open door that led into several other chambers, and it dawned upon him that these were Professor Dumbledore's personal quarters. A fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace, and a tea service tray was waiting for them on a narrow table behind one of the sofas.

"Would you like some tea?" the professor asked as he began pouring himself a cup.

"Yes, please." Harry was startled by his own response. He hadn't truly wanted the tea, but something gave him the idea that Dumbledore would insist, even if he refused.

"Good." Dumbledore poured a second cup and handed it to Harry. "It's a special blend, gingko and ginseng, both of which are good for clarity of the mind, and helpful when performing mental exercises."

Harry took a sip of the tea and grimaced at the bitterness. He added a lump of sugar and stirred. His second taste was much more pleasant. Dumbledore motioned him over to one of the sofas, and Harry took a seat. Dumbledore sat across from him. Harry had noticed that he took no sugar in his own tea, which surprised him, knowing the professor's propensity for sweets.

Dumbledore must have noticed his quizzical expression, for he said, "Despite my fondness for sherbet lemons, I don't take sugar in my tea. I find it muddles the natural properties of the leaves. Drink up. We have much to accomplish this afternoon before dinner."

Harry finished his tea quickly and returned the cup to the tray, as did Dumbledore, then he remained standing, waiting for instructions from the Headmaster.

"Sit back down, Evan," Professor Dumbledore said gently. He also sat, reclaiming his seat across from Harry.

Strange, Harry thought. Snape had never invited him to sit during their sessions, but he did as his professor instructed. He noticed Dumbledore studying him closely, and felt a distinct uneasiness begin to seep into his bones. Finally, the professor spoke again.

"Based on your experiences with Occlumency last term, you're probably already aware that strong emotions can be counter-productive to work of this nature, Evan. Anger, in particular, is directly in opposition to the skills you'll be building upon in order to successfully shield your mind. Before we begin, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "Then I'm afraid I'm doomed to failure, Professor Dumbledore. Lately anger is about the only thing I _do_ feel. Take that away from me, and there won't be anything left."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I don't want to take away your anger. I merely meant that telling me would help you set it aside temporarily."

"Where do I begin? October 31st, 1981? Or do you just want this week's list?"

"This week will do, Evan."

"Fine. Why didn't you tell me that Umbridge had been exonerated? "

"It's complicated, Evan."

"Don't give me that. It's _always_ complicated."

This statement gave Dumbledore pause, and when he spoke again, he sounded humbled.

"Of course, you're right. I didn't tell you because there wasn't anything you could have done about it, Evan."

"Are you joking? She was going to use an Unforgivable curse on me! She should have been locked up in Azkaban, right along with Lucius Malfoy. I could have testified...." Harry trailed off, realizing as soon as the words were out of his mouth how foolish they were.

"Harry could possibly have testified. But Evan Jameson wasn't there."

"What about Hermione, and Ron? They were there. So were Ginny, Neville and Luna."

"As were Miss Bulstrode, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Warrington, and Mr. Malfoy, who testified to Minister Fudge that Madam Umbridge was acting within her rights to punish students who were caught vandalizing her office. As Madam Umbridge didn't actually use the curse, there was little evidence to prove she intended to do so, other than the testimony of several students who were caught breaking the rules. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and the others were declared by Minister Fudge to be unreliable witnesses and were not allowed to testify during the inquisitorial hearing. Madam Umbridge was proven to have been acting under what she believed to be ministry orders."

"What about the Dementors?" Harry asked. "She admitted that she sent them after me."

"Dementors are unpredictable, Harry. Umbridge claimed she sent the Dementors to protect you from possible Death Eater activity."

"Right." Harry shook his head in disbelief. When it all came down to it, it didn't really matter. He had bigger things to be concerned about than Dolores Umbridge.

Professor Dumbledore gave him a few minutes to collect his thoughts before asking, "Are you ready, now?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Very well. Now, close your eyes and concentrate on the sound of my voice, Evan...."

Harry began to relax as he recognized one of the techniques he had read about in the books that Dumbledore had loaned him.

"Clear your mind...."

Harry had already attempted some of the exercises on his own while reading through the first chapters of his texts, as Dumbledore had suggested. Clearing his mind was a concept he couldn't seem to grasp any better now than he had with Professor Snape, however. Random thoughts jostled together in his mind, each one demanding his attention. Ron, telling him to leave Ginny alone. Hermione, asking him about Viktor Krum. Cho, shaking his hand. Ginny, walking next to Dean. The Hogwarts Express. Malfoy. Hedwig. The Leaky Cauldron. The Butterbeer. Sirius.

Harry gasped as his head snapped up and his eyes opened to find Professor Dumbledore watching him.

"Evan?"

"I'm all right. I just.... I can't seem to clear my mind. No matter how hard I try, I always wind up thinking about something."

"I think you may be trying too hard."

Professor Dumbledore seemed perplexed, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his hand as he pondered the situation. Harry sat tensely for a moment, until the Professor's brow unfurrowed, and he rose from his seat to retrieve a candle from the mantle.

_"Incendio,"_ he whispered, pointing his wand at the wick, which flared into life. Dumbledore then pointed his wand at one of the end tables next to the sofa Harry occupied, waved his wand and called out, _"Ambulo!"_

The table skittered on four legs over to Harry and plunked itself down in front of him. Professor Dumbledore then placed the candle on the tabletop and sat back down across from Harry.

"Now, this time I want you to focus on the flame of the candle while you listen to my voice. Don't worry about whether or not you are thinking anything. Simply allow your body to relax as you watch the flame. Let the sound of my voice guide you."

Harry nodded, then focused on the small flame before him. He watched as it danced, swaying from side to side in small currents of air. He noticed that the heart of the flame was the brightest; if he looked closely, he could even see a tinge of blue at the very center. The room around him grew dim, and Professor Dumbledore's voice grew indistinct as Harry disregarded everything but the glowing flame. Distantly, he realized that the Professor was asking him a question.

"Can you hear me, Evan?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. You're doing very well. Stay focused on the flame, but listen to my voice."

Harry nodded again.

"I want you to know that you are in a safe place. No harm can befall you here. Allow your body to relax, and open your mind."

_Voldemort,_ thought Harry. _Voldemort will sense me._

"No, Evan, he won't. Remember what I told you."

Harry remembered.

**_17 August 1996_**

_"No. No. He's not dead. Sirius!"_

_"Harry, wake up." Professor Dumbledore shook Harry gently, attempting to rouse him from the nightmare._

_Harry bolted upright in the middle of the bed, looking frantically around the room. "Sirius?" he asked._

_"No, Harry. Sirius is gone."_

_Harry blinked in surprise, then his face crumpled as he recalled the events at the end of last term, a well as the events of the past week. He rolled over in the bed and faced the wall._

_"Go away and leave me alone."_

_"I can't do that, Harry."_

_"Why not?" Harry whipped back around, his eyes burning with anger. "I'm nobody now, remember? Thanks to you, Harry Potter doesn't exist. He's dead. I have no life, there's no need to worry about someone who doesn't exist, so just bloody well leave me alone!"_

_With that, Harry rolled out of the bed and began pulling clothes out of the trunk that Dumbledore had managed to retrieve from the Dursleys'. They had left it on the curb like so much garbage. He stripped out of his pajamas and threw on a jumper and a pair of jeans, then began searching for his trainers._

_"What are you doing, Harry?"_

_"I'm leaving. I'm getting out of this house and away from you, away from everything. I thought I could do this, but I can't. If I'm going to be nobody, I'm going to do it somewhere else."_

_"I cannot allow you to do that, Harry."_

_"Really? Well, I'm bloody sick and tired of hearing about what you can't do. You can't let me leave, you can't leave me alone, you can't let me see Ron and Hermione, you can't protect me from Voldemort and you can't bring back Sirius! You can't do anything!"_

_Dumbledore did not respond to Harry's ranting, he merely stood back while Harry finished dressing himself, then flung the door open and ran into the hall and down the stairs. It was after midnight; Mrs. Figg was the only other occupant of the house, and either she had not been awakened by the racket Harry was making, or she had chosen to ignore it. When Harry finally reached the front door, he felt a surge of fierce joy in his heart. Beyond that door lay freedom._

_But it wouldn't budge. Harry wheeled around to find Dumbledore standing silently behind him, his arms resting passively against his sides. _

_"Open the door," Harry demanded._

_"No," Dumbledore said firmly._

_"Damn you!"_

_Harry launched himself at Dumbledore without thinking. It was all his fault. Everything he had suffered from the time he was a year old could be attributed to the man standing before him. Dumbledore was the one who had left him with the Dursleys to face ten years of scorn and neglect. Dumbledore had failed to tell him the truth about his connection to Voldemort, the truth about the prophecy, the truth about his parents. Dumbledore had let that hag Umbridge infiltrate the school with her poison, had let Fudge make a mockery of him in the _Daily Prophet_, had let the Dementors attack him at the Dursleys' last summer. Dumbledore had let Sirius die. He hated Albus Dumbledore._

"Impedimenta!"_ Dumbledore shouted in a terrible voice._

_Harry was hurled away from the professor and crashed into the front door. Before he could react, Dumbledore shouted again._

"Immobulus!"

_Harry couldn't budge an inch; he was frozen where he lay against the door. He seethed inside, wanting nothing more than to get his hands around the headmaster's throat and throttle him, but somewhere inside, a small part of him was mortified at his own behavior. He had just physically attacked his headmaster._

_"I'm sorry to have to resort to such tactics, Harry, but you've forced my hand. I can't let you go out that door, no matter how much I might wish I could. The safety of too many people, including your own, is at stake." Dumbledore took a deep breath before he continued. "If your own safety means nothing to you, Harry, at least think of your friends. If Voldemort suspects for even a moment that you're still alive, he will stop at nothing to find you. Where do you think he would start?"_

_Ron. Hermione. The Weasleys._

_Tears of frustration and anger began to trickle down Harry's face, but there was nothing he could do about it. Dumbledore could see that his anger had not abated, and therefore had not released him from the jinx yet. He stood before Harry now with a look of sorrow on his face. Harry didn't think he had ever seen him look so old, not even two months ago, after the disaster at the Ministry of Magic._

_"I know you hate me right now, Harry, and I don't blame you. I know the situation you're in is horrible, and that you feel I'm the one that put you there, and I can't deny there is some truth there. But, Harry, you cannot leave. You probably haven't thought of it yet, but your link to Voldemort is still there. It is dormant for now, but it will not remain that way if you leave."_

Dear Merlin. The scar. Voldemort. How could I have forgotten? _Harry's anger slowly began to fade, and he looked up at Dumbledore in a manner that he hoped would communicate his contrition. _

_The professor nodded, pointed his wand at Harry and murmured, _"Finite Incantatem."

_Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It had been difficult to breathe while he was immobilized; his chest could only move so far. Dumbledore motioned for him to get up, but Harry shook his head and remained where he was, feeling that all of his energy had drained out of him along with his anger. He looked up at Dumbledore from where he sat and asked, "Why is it dormant?"_

_"I've shielded that part of your mind from Voldemort, Harry. But at best, it's only a temporary solution. That kind of shielding requires the deepest of magics and is extremely draining to maintain over a long period of time. You will need to learn to shield yourself by studying Occlumency." When Harry would have spoken, Professor Dumbledore cut him off. "Don't worry about it for now, Harry. I may be an old man, but I've a few tricks up my sleeve yet. For now, you're safe. We'll worry about Occlumency once school starts."_

_Harry couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through him at the thought of studying Occlumency with Snape again, but he didn't have the strength to argue the point just now. All he wanted to do was go back to bed. When Dumbledore said nothing further, Harry stood and began walking towards the stairs._

_"Harry?"_

_Harry turned to look at the professor, but remained silent. Professor Dumbledore seemed to be struggling with whether to say something further to Harry, but finally resorted to quietly bidding him good night._

"That's right, Harry. You're safe here. No harm can come to you. Whenever you are afraid, picture this room in your mind. The sofas, comfortable cushions, the hidden passageway. Visualize it as a safe haven from all that troubles you. Have you pictured it?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Now, Harry, picture yourself building the stone walls that surround you. One by one, feel them settle firmly into place. Nothing can penetrate them once you've set them where they need to be. Stone upon stone, keep stacking them until the wall extends over your head. You can levitate them as high as you need them to be."

Harry nodded again. He no longer saw Dumbledore, or the flame in front of him, only the stone wall. As he built it, his haven grew quieter and quieter until he realized he was standing inside a cozy chamber that was completely silent. He turned in a circle; the wall surrounded him entirely. He tested it, gingerly at first with only a tap, then he shoved it hard with the full force of his body. The wall stood firm. He smiled, pleased with himself, enjoying for the first time in his life a sublime peace.

_Now, how am I supposed to get out?_

As soon as he voiced the thought, the walls around him dissolved as if they had never been there, and he could see Dumbledore sitting before him, as well as the candle on the table, which had burned down considerably since the last time he remembered focusing on it.

"Excellent work, Evan. You've done extremely well today, far better than I expected so early in our sessions. Could you see your wall?"

"Yes. It was amazing. It was so quiet inside."

"The wall can shield you not only from outside intrusions, but also from the noise inside your own mind. I'm very pleased with your progress. It won't be long before you'll be able to build your wall instantaneously. Then the real work begins."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"You must learn to build a doorway through the wall, so that you don't have to take it down during the normal course of the day. A doorway will allow you to interact with the world around you, while still shielding your mind from unwanted intruders. And eventually, you will learn Legilimency as well."

_"Legilimency?_ Why?" Harry asked. He couldn't fathom why Dumbledore would want him to study the spell that Snape had used to cause him such pain last year.

"For several reasons. For one, because learning how to break through the walls of others is a good technique for learning to strengthen your own wall. Secondly, it will give you much more control over your link to Voldemort. You will learn to recognize the signs of a Legilimens' attack on yourself, no matter how surreptitious."

"But how do you know I'll even be able to do that?" Harry asked.

"It's one of your gifts, Evan," the professor explained.

Harry slumped at this news. _Great,_ he thought. _Just what I needed. Another piece of Voldemort to treasure. _He sighed, once again feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth turned up, and his eyes began to twinkle. "My dear boy, I'm afraid you don't understand. This isn't a gift you received from Voldemort; it is one you were born with."

Harry sat up straighter. "What do you mean? How do you know that?"

"Quite simply, because your mother was one of the most skilled _Legilimens _I've ever met."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This is the last chapter of this story I will be posting here. I've had some problems with my computer lately due to malicious ad-ware that I believe was installed on my computer during a visit to this site. I post my fiction in several other places on the web, including my own website, and I have a notify list at Yahoo Groups that I use to inform readers of new chapters and stories. If you wish to continue following the progress of this story, I recommend joining the list or checking in at my website. The addresses of both are listed in my profile.

I borrowed the location for Neville's home from the Harry Potter Lexicon. There's an interesting little essay on the site, theorizing where the Longbottom family originates from.

Also, I know some of you probably hate me for making you think that Ron and Hermione had been snogging when they skived off the D.A. meeting in the last chapter. Sorry, sorry...but I promise to make it up to you some time in the future!

And before I forget, I owe a big thanks to Lucyjekyll (whom I'll miss), for all her hard work in helping me get this far, and to Anne and Joe for volunteering when needed.


	9. Practical Magic

"_Stupefy!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

"_Silencio!"_

"_Protego!"_

"_Aculeus! _Oh, look out!"

Harry reacted instinctively with a wave of his wand and a firm _"Protego!"_ but he was an instant too late. For a brief moment he was assailed by the sensation of hundreds of fiery prickles stinging his skin. He was fortunate in that the caster did not seem to be particularly adept at Stinging Hexes yet. When he looked around, he found Dennis Creevey hanging his head in shame.

"Sorry, that one got away from me," Dennis said by way of explanation.

"You're supposed to be working on shield charms," Harry remarked patiently.

Colin Creevey, who had been partnering his younger brother in the first D.A. session of the year, piped up.

"We were. Dennis was aiming for me; it was my turn to practice the shield charm," he explained.

"I'm really sorry," Dennis said again. "I saw a flash of light just as I was casting the Stinging Hex, and it threw my aim off. What was that, anyway?" he asked, looking around.

Harry followed his glance and saw Cho, who was working with a group of Ravenclaws, produced another brilliant flash from her wand, which solidified into the shape of a swan flying gracefully above the students' heads. As Harry glanced around the rest of the room, the cacophony of close to a hundred voices chanting different hexes and charms was nearly overwhelming.

Earlier that evening, he had arrived at the Room of Requirement several minutes later than he had intended to find that many of the students had got there ahead of him. The Ravenclaws had claimed the area near the fireplace as their own, huddled in a close-knit group, talking amongst themselves. The Gryffindors were stationed near the front of the room, while the few Slytherin students had staked out the farthest corner. The Hufflepuffs were milling about in the center of the room, looking somewhat bewildered. As he entered, all eyes focused upon him, looking for guidance.

"Um, hello," he said lamely. Some of the students nodded by way of answer. Harry searched the room for Professor Shacklebolt, but did not find him anywhere. Ginny stepped away from the group of Gryffindors and greeted him.

"Hi, Evan. I ran into Professor Shacklebolt on the way; he said to start without him, that Professor Dumbledore had called him away on urgent business."

Harry suspected that "urgent" business meant "Order" business. Ginny had offered the explanation in a light tone, but the slight crease above the bridge of her nose indicated she was probably worried, just as he was. Harry gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Let's get started, then," he said.

Nearly an hour later, Harry was questioning his sanity for the hundredth time as he watched the silver swan swoop around Cho several times before vanishing. He nodded at the Creevey brothers to indicate they should continue practicing; then he wound his way between clusters of students until he reached the group surrounding Cho.

"Oooh, that was so pretty. Can you do it again?" one of the fourth-year girls asked.

"Of course!" Cho began, but she stopped short when she discovered 'Evan' among the crowd of onlookers. "Um..."

"That was a pretty impressive Patronus," he commented neutrally. Cho seemed to feel the need to explain her actions.

"We practiced them last year. I thought, with the Dementors leaving Azkaban, it would be a good idea for everyone to learn."

Harry nodded.

"You're right, and we will. But casting a Patronus charm is extremely advanced magic, and it's more effective if used in conjunction with the shield charm. A Patronus will protect you from a Dementor, but it can't do anything against the Death Eater aiming bone-crunching curses at your head."

Cho opened her mouth as if to disagree, but then snapped it closed again and nodded. However, another voice piped up elsewhere in the room, slightly nasal and brimming with scorn.

"But we already know the shield charm. That's second-year magic."

"Then you should be able to cast it in your sleep by now, right?" Harry asked, looking around for the source of the voice. No one stepped forward, but Harry noticed several pairs of eyes glancing at Theodore Nott.

"What about you, Nott?" Harry asked, watching the other boy's face flush when the attention of the rest of the students fell upon them. "Can you cast the shield charm in your sleep?"

"I can if you can," Nott retorted angrily.

"Good to know," Harry said in a casual tone. "We've all read the stories. Death Eaters are known for snatching people from their beds in the middle of the night. I think it would be quite handy to be able to counter offensive magic in your sleep, don't you?" Before the other boy could respond, Harry slashed his wand in the air and shouted, "_Aculeus_!"

A stream of bluish energy shot from Harry's wand and enveloped Nott. As Harry looked on, the other boy began writhing in discomfort from the stinging hex.

"Ow! Turn it off!" he growled between clenched teeth.

"_Finite Incantatem."_ As soon as the words left Harry's mouth, the bluish light evaporated and Nott sighed in relief.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" he asked furiously.

"You can do a shield charm in your sleep. Why didn't you use it?" Harry asked.

"You didn't give me-" Nott began, but trailed off as the light of understanding dawned in his eyes.

"A warning? A chance?" Harry looked steadily around at the rest of the students who had fallen eerily silent as the lesson began to sink in. "You won't get a warning — will they, Professor?" Harry asked, as he noticed Kingsley observing near the door.

"Quite right." The professor nodded as he began walking towards Harry. "Very effective demonstration, Mr. Jameson."

"But what good is the shield charm, then?" Nott asked. "Are we just supposed to walk around shielded all day?"

"Of course not, Mr. Nott. Maintaining a shield charm continuously is extremely taxing, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Jameson?"

Harry gave a sharp nod.

"And would you care to elaborate upon the solution, as it appears Mr. Nott has not yet fully grasped the point of your demonstration?"

Harry nodded again and began to explain. "Casting the shield charm must become second nature to you. I wasn't joking when I asked-"

"_Aculeus!" _

Without warning, Professor Shacklebolt aimed his wand at Harry. However, before the words had completely left his mouth, Harry dropped into a half-crouching position and shouted, _"Protego!"_ As the blue light from the professor's wand met Harry, it was absorbed by the yellow glow that now surrounded him, leaving Harry completely unharmed.

Shacklebolt nodded at Harry, and a faint smile crossed his face. "Very good, Mr. Jameson." He looked around at the rest of the students, many of whom were wide-eyed and open-mouthed, particularly the fourth-years. "As you see, a shield charm can be extremely effective when used properly. Unfortunately, standard dueling practices don't necessarily prepare you to react instinctively in the face of an unexpected attack."

"But how are we supposed to practice something like that?" Cho asked, bewildered.

Ginny bit her lip as she often did when she was concentrating. After a few moments, a slow smile crossed her face. "I think I have an idea," she said. She reached up and untied the kerchief she was wearing to keep her hair away from her face. "Now, all I need is a volunteer," she explained. When no one stepped forward, her eyes came to rest upon her brother.

"What do you say, Ron? Now's your chance to prove what a brave and dashing young man you are," Ginny said with a hint of sarcasm and a smirk.

Ron narrowed his eyes at his sister, but he made his way forward to where she stood. Hermione looked on in curiosity and anticipation. Ginny handed the kerchief to Ron and instructed him to tie it around his eyes as a blindfold. Ron did as she instructed, eyeing her warily.

"Now what?" he asked, when the cloth was tied securely over his eyes.

"Defend yourself," Ginny said sharply.

"But how am I supposed to do that when I can't see?" Ron asked.

"That's the point of the exercise, Mr. Weasley," Professor Shacklebolt explained. "Why did you join the D.A. last year?" he asked conversationally.

"Because Hermione made me?" Ron ventured.

"Ron!" Hermione protested.

Professor Shacklebolt laughed. "Of course, Mr. Weasley. But that can't be the only reason. Why was the D.A. formed in the first place?"

"Because we needed to learn how to fight. How to defend ourselves. Stuff we can't learn from books," Ron said in a rough voice, "no matter what that toad Umbridge said."

Around him several other students snickered. Even Kingsley could not completely suppress his own smile.

"Eloquently put, Mr. Weasley," he said wryly. "I believe the point you are driving at is that you needed practical experience."

Ron's posture, which had been stiff at first in anticipation of an impending attack, had begun to relax. "Yeah, that's it. Practical experience."

A ripple of murmured agreement crossed the room, and Ron squared his shoulders in response as he continued. "It's not like we can practice at home, not with the laws against underage magic use. Can't practice at school either. It's against the rules to hex another student."

The professor nodded at Ginny, who, with a look of gleeful mischief, aimed her wand at Ron and called out, _"Tericula volatus!"_

Ron countered almost immediately, _"Protego!"_ Ginny's bat bogey hex bounced harmlessly off the shield he had erected, and several of the students clapped.

"Nice try, Ginny," Ron said sourly, as he removed the blindfold.

Professor Shacklebolt looked briefly puzzled before a look of distaste crossed his face. "I take it you've had a great deal of practice countering that particular curse, Mr. Weasley?" he asked.

"Yeah. The bat-bogey hex. It's her favorite. She made it up herself," Ron said, his voice a containing a mixture of exasperation and a touch of admiration for his sibling.

"Then you've proven my point nicely. Even blindfolded, you reacted instinctively. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley."

Ron nodded and then slipped back through the crowd of students to reclaim his spot next to Hermione as the professor continued.

"You must all learn to trust your instincts in situations where you are required to defend yourselves. We will continue with this exercise in two weeks. Everyone should bring their own blindfold in order to participate. Class is dismissed."

The students began leaving in small groups. Harry hung back in order to discuss the next session with the Kingsley, who had stepped to one side of the room and appeared to be involved in an intense conversation with Ron and Hermione. Ginny approached Harry with a tentative smile.

"Good show, Evan. I don't know when I've ever seen someone move that fast," she said, smiling.

Harry blushed, but the praise wasn't unwelcome. "I was sort of expecting it."

"You were the only one," Ginny countered. "I think that was part of the point."

"Maybe." Harry shrugged, unsure what to say to Ginny. Although Ron was still conversing with Professor Shacklebolt, Harry had seen him glance their way twice already. Ginny noticed the expression of concern he directed towards her brother.

"Ron and I spent a lot of time practicing this summer," she said softly. "He was laid up for a while at the end of last term, so there wasn't much to do for entertainment besides hurl curses at each other. He's become really sneaky with trip jinxes."

"What happened?" Harry asked, knowing full well that it had taken Ron a good month to recover from the injuries he had sustained during the confrontation at the Ministry of Magic. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Ginny about her ankle as well, but he knew better.

Ginny was saved from responding by Hermione and Ron.

"That was quite a demonstration you put on with Nott," Hermione commented. "I doubt it's earned you any friends among the members of your house, however."

"I'll get over it. It got the point across, didn't it?" Harry said, more gruffly than he intended. He was distinctly uncomfortable here with the three of them. It was almost like nothing had ever happened, and they were discussing one of their lessons as usual, until Ron spoke up.

"Reckon you got lots of practice dodging curses at Durmstrang," he said pointedly.

"You seem to be adept at dodging them yourself," Harry countered.

A faint gleam of pride shone in Ron's eyes. "I can hold my own."

"And he's a real brain when it comes to summoning charms," Ginny said slyly. That brought Ron up short. He shot his sister a withering glare. Harry was temporarily mystified, but finally realized that Ginny was referring to Ron's encounter with a tentacled brain at the Ministry of Magic the previous spring.

"What were you and Professor Shacklebolt talking about?" Ginny asked brightly before Ron had a chance to exact revenge for her jibe.

"Nothing important— the professor was just congratulating Ron on putting on such a good performance," Hermione replied, but Harry didn't miss the pointed look that she gave Ginny. Ginny seemed to get the message.

"I guess we'd better be heading back to the common room," she said lamely. "Filch will start patrolling soon. See you, Evan."

"Bye." As Harry watched, Dean Thomas joined the three Gryffindors as they walked towards the door. He slapped Ron good-naturedly on the back and slung an arm around Ginny's shoulders. Ginny blushed faintly, but she glanced back once at Harry before they exited and gave him a small wave.

Harry couldn't help but wonder exactly when Ginny Weasley had taken up with Dean Thomas. He vaguely remembered her mentioning him on the train ride home last term, but he had suspected at the time that she had just been yanking Ron's chain, after all his bluster about Michael Corner. Apparently he had been mistaken. He wondered how Ron felt about that, and then he recalled the scene outside the Gryffindor common room several evenings ago. _Looks like Ron is on board now_. _Wonder what caused his change of heart?_

Harry brushed the thoughts aside. Thinking about Ginny and Dean made him uncomfortable. He had half a mind to give Dean a good talking-to, make certain he knew that Harry would break his head open if he hurt her. However, Evan Jameson had no reason to do such a thing, no matter how much Harry Potter wanted him to.

_Great. Now I've started referring to myself as two distinct personalities. Wonder if wizards have head-shrinks? _Visions of yellow powder and leathery shrunken heads came to mind, and Harry laughed to himself. _Let's hope not. _

After confirming their plans for the next D.A. session, Kingsley departed, leaving Harry alone in the Room of Requirement. He wandered over to one of the windows and stared out across the grounds. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the parts of the castle he could see, including Hagrid's hut. After a moment, Hagrid himself wandered into Harry's view, carrying an oversized garden hoe. Harry first instinct was to join his friend as he often did on Sunday afternoons. He would even be willing to eat one of Hagrid's rock cakes, if it meant seeing a friendly face for a change. However, he thought better of it.

Harry had begun to regret continuing his Care of Magical Creatures studies. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the lessons. With the exception of the Flobberworms, Harry could honestly say he had never been bored in one of Hagrid's classes. However, the easy friendship he had enjoyed with Hagrid as Harry Potter did not exist as Evan Jameson. To Hagrid, Evan Jameson was, at best, just another student. However, as time passed, Harry got the distinct impression that Hagrid saw him as a Slytherin first, and a student second. He was never overtly rude to Harry. More often than not, he simply overlooked Harry during class, calling on other students no matter how often Harry volunteered. Harry had gradually stopped volunteering over the course of the past several weeks. He noticed that many of the other Slytherins in his classes rarely volunteered, either. Before, he had always assumed it was a typical Slytherin trait. Now, he was no longer convinced that was the case.

Harry turned away from the window, anxious to set his thoughts on another path. With a sigh, he withdrew the textbooks he had borrowed during the initial D.A. meeting from his bag and returned them to the shelves. He wondered if he would be able to find a volume on magical disguise. He had long ago finished _Camouflaging Your Countenance,_ and had been surprise at how much the subject interested him. He was thus delighted to find a thick book on the same subject, titled _From Incognito to Invisible, or How to Hide in Plain Sight. _At the same time, he knew it was no coincidence that he had found exactly what he had been looking for so easily.

After tucking the book away, he took a moment to observe his surroundings and realized he had never had the Room of Requirement all to himself. The room fascinated him. Judging by previous experience, it seemed he had only to think of what he desired, and the room provided it for him, so he decided to experiment. Feeling a bit foolish, he closed his eyes tight and thought for a moment before voicing a wish.

"I would like an ice cream sundae, with whipped cream, chopped nuts, and hot fudge sauce."

When he opened his eyes, the room didn't appear to have changed. _You have hours of homework to finish before tomorrow, and you're standing around making silly wishes. You need to get back to your dormitory, you git,_ he thought.

Rolling his eyes at his foolishness, Harry turned to the torch nearest him and extinguished it with a wave of his wand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shimmer of movement. Startled, he whirled around and gasped in shock at the sight his eyes beheld. Where previously the room had resembled a private study, with its bookshelves, comfy cushions and small tables, it now contained five four-poster beds, heavily curtained in scarlet and gold and neatly arranged around a pot-bellied stove. Near the head of each bed was a matching cabinet; at the foot was a sturdy looking trunk. The one nearest Harry had the initials _R.W._ embossed on the lid in black lettering. Harry's heart thumped painfully in his chest as he reached out to touch the soft velvet of the curtains of Ron's bed. It was real, as real as he was.

But, save for him, it was empty. Harry walked to the door and, without turning back, extinguished the remaining torches with his wand and left.

He did not encounter anyone on the way down to the dungeons until he had almost reached the entrance to the Slytherin Common room. When he heard voices coming from around the corner, he paused in his steps, recognizing Malfoy's snide tone immediately.

"Where've you been, Nott?"

"Nowhere," came the gruff reply. Harry recognized the voice as Theodore's.

"Yeah, right. You went to that stupid meeting, didn't you?"

"What if I did?"

"Are you afraid of something, Nott? Scared the bogeyman is going to pop out of the closet in the middle of the night? I think your daddy would be disappointed, don't you?" Malfoy's voice had taken on a more threatening tone.

"Shut up."

Harry heard the sounds of scuffling and decided it was time to intervene. He stepped away from the shadows and began whistling as he strode the last few steps towards the corner and then around it. He wasn't surprised to find Malfoy accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle, who were flanking Nott. All four of the boys eyed Harry warily as he approached them. Malfoy was standing in front of the entrance to the common room and made no move to step aside when Harry stopped short in front of him.

"D'you mind?" Harry asked. "I've got homework to finish."

"Have fun with the Gryffindors, did you Jameson?" Malfoy drawled.

"If you consider hexing them fun, then yes, I did," Harry replied coolly. To his surprise, Malfoy laughed.

"As a matter of fact, it's one of my favorite pastimes."

"Maybe you should attend the next meeting, then. You could probably use the practice."

Malfoy looked disgusted. "I prefer a bit more of a challenge than any of those gits could provide."

Harry knew he should say nothing more, but baiting Malfoy had become second nature over the years. "Maybe I could provide more of a challenge, then. I've learned a few..._interesting _hexes over the years."

"That sounded like a dare, Jameson."

"If you say so," Harry said. "Like I said, I've got homework to finish, and you're blocking the door."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry, but he moved just the same. "Password has been changed. New one is _maleficent moribundia," _he said. "Don't forget it."

Harry glanced over at Nott. "I wanted to ask you something if you've got a minute."

Nott looked at him strangely, but gave him a curt nod and followed him into the common room until they reached their dormitory.

"What did you want?" he asked, when Harry had shut the door behind them.

"Oh, uh, nothing, really. I sort of overheard part of your, erm, conversation with them earlier. I just didn't think you'd be too keen on continuing it."

Instead of being grateful for the rescue, Nott appeared incensed. "Get this straight, Jameson. I didn't ask for your help, and I didn't need it. Mind your own damn business next time."

Astounded, Harry was only able to mutter a grudging "sorry" as Nott stormed back out of the room.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Hermione asked in a smug tone.

Ron grumbled, but managed a grudging "No. But I still don't trust that git."

Ginny, who was walking with Dean several paces ahead, sighed audibly before she stopped and turned to face her brother.

"Ron, he's been perfectly pleasant every time I've spoken to him," she said sharply.

"Yeah, well, what's with that?" Ron asked. "Who's ever heard of a pleasant Slytherin?" He looked over at Dean for confirmation, but Dean just shrugged and nodded furtively towards Ginny.

"Well, there was Professor Lockhart," Hermione began hesitantly. "He was always a pleasant sort."

Ron guffawed. "Yeah. Pleasant right up to the point he tried to obliviate Harry and me. If anything, that just proves that it's the pleasant ones you have to watch out for."

Ginny said quietly, "I think he's nice, and that's all I'm going to say about it. I have an essay on poisonous fungi due for Herbology on Monday that Neville promised to help me with. I told him I'd meet him in the library after the DA session, so I've got to run. I'll see you at dinner." She reached up and gave Dean a quick peck on the cheek before leaving them in the corridor.

"Ron, you up for chess?" Dean asked.

Ron glanced at Hermione before he answer.

"Can't. We, um, have something to do."

Hermione added. "We promised Hagrid we would come for tea this afternoon."

"Oh. Ok." Dean shrugged. "Reckon I'll ask Seamus, then. See you later."

Once Dean was out of earshot, Hermione turned back to Ron.

"You're horrible at pretense, did you know?"

"I couldn't think of anything to say! It's not like Dean cares what we're up to, anyway. If anything, he'll, um, probably think we're..." Ron trailed off as the tips of his ears began to redden.

"Think we're what?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"Nothing. Let's just go. We're late already. What was the password, again?"

"Everlasting spider suckers."

Ron shuddered. "Oh yeah. How could I forget?"

Rather than descending the staircase to reach the ground floor, Ron and Hermione instead walked purposefully through the maze of corridors until they reached Professor Dumbledore's office. Hermione spoke the password, then stepped onto the platform, followed by Ron. After a moment, they found themselves in Professor Dumbledore's office.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. It's always a pleasure. Do sit down and have some tea."

With a grin, Ron helped himself to a handful of biscuits and a bottle of Butterbeer. Hermione snorted derisively at his greed and accepted only a cup of tea for herself.

"I understand the two of you are aware of the recent passing of Mr. Longbottom's grandmother," Dumbledore began.

Hermione nodded sadly, and Ron's expression sobered.

"Was it Voldemort?" he asked, hesitating only slightly before he said the name.

Dumbledore clasped his hands together, steepling his long fingers that were knobby with age. He appeared to consider his answer carefully before finally speaking.

"The official word is that Mrs. Longbottom died of natural causes. A representative from the Ministry advised me they have completed their inquiry and found no evidence to the contrary."

Hermione gave a small _tuh, _then flushed slightly when Dumbledore prompted, "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Neville doesn't believe his gran died naturally," she said, folding her arms across her chest in a defiant gesture.

"And we don't either," Ron added for good measure.

"I see. You are aware there were no witnesses to her death?" When Ron and Hermione nodded, he continued. "No one saw or heard anything or anyone out of the ordinary. There was no dark mark above the home to indicate that Voldemort or his supporters were responsible. She was found early in the morning by her house elf, and appeared to have died in her sleep."

Hermione nodded and countered, "But you wouldn't have called us here if that were the case."

"Indeed."

"But why? Why Neville's Gran? They're a pure-blood family, aren't they?" Ron asked, sounding bewildered.

"So were Neville's parents. Look what happened to them," Hermione reminded him.

"Oh. Yeah." Ron long since finished his Butterbeer and now sat drumming his fingers rapidly against his knees. Unable to sit still any longer, he stood from the chair and stepped behind it to one of the full-length bookshelves that lined the walls of the office. Dumbledore watched him without comment as he picked up several odds and ends, twisting them around to examine them before he put them back in their place.

"Did Harry happen to discuss with you the conversation we had following the events at the Ministry last spring?" the professor asked.

Hermione furrowed her brows, taken aback by the question. "No, Professor. He refused to talk about anything that happened that night," she replied softly.

Ron came around to the side of her chair and perched on the armrest. In a low, raspy voice, he added, "Sirius's death hit him really hard. He barely said a word to anyone that last week of school."

"Never mentioned it in his letters?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, sir. Harry didn't...his letters were never..."

She broke off and looked up at Ron helplessly, unable to explain. He dropped a hand onto her shoulder and looked across at Dumbledore.

"I got one letter from him this summer," he explained in a tight voice. "It said he was fine, and the Dursleys were treating him all right. That's it."

Hermione nodded in agreement and continued.

"Then, in Diagon Alley, that was the last thing any of us wanted to talk about. We thought we'd have time...later," she finished in a choked whisper as she reached up to swipe away the tears threatening to spill. The professor produced a soft, clean handkerchief from one of the hidden nooks in his desk. Ron leaned over to take it and gave it to Hermione, then gave her shoulder a small squeeze.

Dumbledore watched them both with a sad expression of regret, or so it seemed to Ron, though he couldn't explain why. His stomach felt as if it was lined with lead, and he knew that whatever Dumbledore was about to tell them, it wasn't good. He waited until Hermione had collected herself before voicing his thoughts.

"Does Mrs. Longbottom's death have something to do with what happened to Harry?" he asked slowly. He hoped he was wrong, but to his dismay, the professor nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, it does."

Hermione gasped, partially in surprise and partially because Ron's grip had tightened painfully on her shoulder. Embarrassed, he let his hand fall away from her and muttered a furtive apology. When he glanced back at the professor, he was gazing at the two of them over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

"The information I am going to share with you is not common knowledge, and I will have your word that what I am about to tell you will not leave this room."

Ron and Hermione solemnly promised. Ron glanced over at Hermione and saw that her eyes were wide and frightened. When he stretched his arm against the back of the chair, she leaned into his side, though he didn't think she was conscious of the movement.

"You already know that Harry was targeted by Voldemort because Voldemort considered him a threat," Dumbledore began.

Ron and Hermione both nodded.

"What is not common knowledge is that Harry was not the only boy who was singled out as a potential threat. There is another student at Hogwarts whose parents were involved in the Order of the Phoenix at the height of Voldemort's reign of terror 15 years ago. Voldemort's followers tortured them beyond the point sanity."

Understanding dawned in Hermione's eyes. "You're talking about Neville, aren't you?"

"Yes. Frank and Alice Longbottom were targeted along with Harry's parents."

"Why torture them? Why didn't they just kill them, like he did the Potters?" Ron asked, feeling ill.

"By this time, Voldemort had already made his attempt on Harry's life and suffered the consequences. A group of his most loyal followers believed the Longbottoms had information about their lord's whereabouts, as well as information regarding a certain prophecy."

"The prophecy we found in the Department of Mysteries?" Hermione ventured. Dumbledore nodded.

"The very same. Had the Death Eaters not been interrupted by Aurors, it is likely that the Longbottoms, too, would have been killed."

"Why would they have known anything about the prophecy?" Ron asked. "Wasn't it about Harry?"

"More than sixteen years ago, it was prophesied that a child born at the end of July would overthrow Voldemort. Neville and Harry both fit the description. However, Voldemort ultimately decided that Harry was the subject of the prophecy rather than Neville."

"And now Harry's..." Ron broke off, unable to voice the final word. "Because of the prophecy."

"Yes."

"But what does that have to do with Mrs. Longbottom?" Hermione asked.

"I believe Voldemort had her killed for the same reason he lured Harry to the Department of Mysteries last spring. He never heard the prophecy in its entirety. He may have believed, incorrectly, that Mrs. Longbottom could supply the missing pieces."

"Will you tell us what it said?" Hermione asked. Ron knew she would; it was in her nature to be curious, even when that curiosity might well threaten her life.

"No, Miss Granger. I believe to do so would endanger both you and Mr. Weasley unnecessarily."

"Then, I don't understand. Why are you telling us any of this?"

"The two of you were wonderful friends to Harry. You provided the kind of support he had never known before. Neville needs that same support now."

"You want _us_ to protect him?" Ron asked incredulously. "If he's in danger, why not take him away somewhere it's safe?" Ron asked.

"Neville is safe at Hogwarts. However, he does have a tendency to find himself in unfortunate circumstances. I'm not asking you to become his bodyguards, simply to keep your eyes open, be his friend. His grandmother was the only family he truly had."

"Of course we will," Hermione spoke for both of them, and Ron nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," the professor said quietly. He picked up the cup of tea that had undoubtedly grown cold and took a sip before he addressed them again.

"If I may ask," he began tentatively, "how are you both holding up, along with Miss Weasley?"

"Fine," Ron said dully, and Hermione echoed his reply.

The professor nodded. "I hope you already know that my door is always open to you. If any of you need anything, you've only to ask."

Ron cleared his throat nervously. "Professor Dumbledore, we were wondering, is anything being done? About Harry's...murder."

The professor nodded. "Yes, Mr. Weasley. The Ministry is conducting a full investigation."

"What about the Order?" Hermione asked.

The professor gave her a solemn look as he answered, "Rest assured, Miss Granger, we are doing what we can."

"Professor, is there anything we can do?" she pressed. "We feel so...removed from everything. Voldemort is back. It doesn't seem right...we should be doing _something_," she insisted.

"Miss Granger, the best thing you can do at the moment is focus on your education," Dumbledore replied gently. "The same goes for you, Mr. Weasley."

"But, Professor, we want to be more involved than that. Our lives, the lives of our friends and the lives of our families may be at stake. It's not fair to keep us in the dark!" Ron said fiercely. His fists were clenching the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Professor Dumbledore paused, and the expression that crossed his face gave Ron a moment of pause. He appeared as much taken aback by the verbal accusation as he would have been if Ron had physically struck him.

"No, it isn't, Mr. Weasley," he agreed, much to Ron's surprise. "However, your level of involvement is not a matter for me to decide. You are still underage."

"I'm not," Hermione said defiantly. "I turned seventeen three weeks ago."

Ron glanced down at her, startled. He had forgotten that Hermione was a good six months older than he, and nearly a year older than Harry.

Clearly, Professor Dumbledore had not expected her rebuttal. He bowed his head and did not speak for so long that Ron feared he had fallen asleep. When he finally looked up again, his face was a mask of resignation.

"So you did, Miss Granger. However, you must realize that application for membership into the Order is not to be taken lightly. It is, to begin with, a lifetime commitment."

"I understand, and I'll do whatever it takes. I refuse to just stand by and let what happened to--" she paused, stumbling over the name, "--to Harry happen to anyone else." She glanced briefly up at Ron as she finished, then swung her gaze back to Dumbledore.

"Very well. I shall make the necessary inquiries. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting shortly."

The professor stood but did not see them out. Ron motioned for Hermione to precede him, and as he followed her through the doorway, he turned back to see that Dumbledore had taken his seat once again and was staring morosely into his teacup. Ron couldn't suppress a shiver of fear.


	10. Flashback: The Specter of Death

_Author's Notes:_

_This is an outtake from Harry Potter and the Deadly Deception. It occurs before the actual timeline of the story and is essentially an addition to the flashback in Chapter 1, only begins in Ginny's point of view. The outtake picks up immediately after Harry's collapse in the Leaky Cauldron. If you choose to read the original flashback again, you'll notice that I've changed the location of Harry's funeral services. I did this based on JKR's mention during an interview of a graveyard on the grounds of Hogwarts. It seemed fitting to me that Harry would be buried there. Eventually I'll get around to revising the chapters I've already posted, but I'd prefer to actually finish the story first._

"Harry!" Ginny screamed, as Harry fell against her. She was the only thing that stood between him and the floor, and she cradled his body in her arms as she tried to lower him gently. To her horror, Harry's body began to shake violently. She looked up at Ron and Hermione and cried desperately, "Help him!"

Hermione had already overcome her initial shock and jumped down from her stool, where she crouched next to Harry.

"It looks like he's having a seizure," Hermione said gravely, but her face registered a concern that bordered on terror. "Ron, go tell Tom..." she began, but Ron had already dashed off in the direction of the bar and was speaking to Tom, gesturing back towards where Harry lay.

Hermione turned back to Ginny and Harry. Ginny had knelt behind Harry and pulled his shoulders into her lap. Suddenly, Harry drew in a deep, rattling breath, and then he lay still. Ginny felt her heart plummet. She grabbed Harry's wrist to feel for his pulse as Hermione bent her head over his chest to listen for his breathing. When the other girl straightened, her eyes were round and dark, and Ginny barely heard her whisper, "Oh, my God."

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. It wasn't possible. It _was not possible._

"Hermione, get out of the way," a new voice said above her head. Ginny turned to see Tonks standing over them, and tears of relief sprang to her eyes. Hermione slid back to make room for the Auror.

"You have to help him..." Ginny began, while Hermione said, "I don't think he's breathing..."

"What happened?" Tonks asked as she knelt down next to Harry. She bent her head to his chest as Hermione had done and listened. All around them, the Leaky Cauldron had grown quiet as the patrons became aware of the situation.

"We were sitting at the table, having a Butterbeer," Ginny said brokenly. "All of a sudden, he said he didn't feel well. And then he just..."

"He collapsed," Hermione finished.

Tonks straightened and pulled her wand out of a holster strapped to her thigh. She made a sharp, slashing motion over Harry, who was suddenly enveloped in a faint, blue glow.

"Not good," Tonks muttered. She reached into her blouse and pulled out a small, feather-shaped pendant, pressing it firmly between her thumb and index finger. A split-second later, Ginny and Hermione heard several faint "popping" noises around them as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin and Bill Weasley Apparated into the Leaky Cauldron. Remus dropped to his knees beside Harry and began examining him as Tonks had. Ginny and Hermione fell back away from Harry and stood to look on as the adults worked over him. Ron had returned with Tom, who began conversing in low tones with Kingsley and Remus.

"How is he?" Ron asked.

Hermione just shook her head, then turned and buried her face in Ron's chest, her shoulders trembling. Ginny, however, couldn't look away from Harry. The blue glow from Tonks' spell seemed to be fading, and Ginny didn't know if that was normal, or if it indicated that Harry himself was fading. She felt a warm, strong hand slip into hers, and looked over at Ron, who pulled her close enough to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

"He'll be all right," Ron insisted. "He's Harry. He's come through worse than this. He'll be all right, you'll see."

Ginny wished she could believe him. As she looked on, Remus spoke quietly to Bill, who nodded and handed him what appeared to be a Galleon coin. Tonks and Remus then joined hands with each other before each took one of Harry's hands and guided it towards the coin. With a soft "whoosh", the three of them disappeared from sight. Bill approached the three of them while Kingsley began encouraging the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron to go about their business. Bill flicked his wand in the air around the three of them and muttered an incantation, and Ginny realized she could no longer hear the whispers and sounds of the other patrons surrounding them. She could still hear Hermione, who was sobbing quietly against Ron's shoulder, and Ron, who was whispering soothingly to Hermione as he stroked her back. Bill looked down at Ginny.

"I need to know _exactly_ what happened," he said.

Ginny nodded and took a deep breath, then, as calmly as she could, she told Bill what had happened from the moment they had set foot into the Leaky Cauldron.

"And none of you saw anyone, or anything suspicious?" he asked. The three teenagers shook their heads. "Who served the Butterbeer?"

Ginny looked around, as did Ron and Hermione, but none of them could identify the person who had brought their drinks as they had chatted and laughed together. The server's face was a blur in Ginny's mind, she had only the vaguest impression of hair color and whether or not the person had been a woman or a man. Bill's expression became even more grave as she explained.

"Which one is Harry's bottle?" he asked, pointing towards the table. Ginny turned and began pointing towards Harry's seat, but there were only three bottles on the table. The fourth, Harry's, was conspicuously absent.

"It was right there," Hermione said, sounding bewildered. "Oh, Merlin, how could we be so stupid?"

"It's all right, Hermione," Bill consoled her. "You didn't know. I'll take the rest of the bottles to be examined— it's possible we'll find something. Are the three of you all right? Not feeling any symptoms?"

In turn, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all nodded, and Bill breathed a sigh of obvious relief. "Good. Kingsley is going to escort you back to Grimmauld Place," he began, but Ron interrupted.

"No. We want to be with Harry. We're going to St. Mungo's."

"Ron, that's not a good idea," Bill began again. This time it was Ginny who interrupted.

"It doesn't matter what you say, Bill. Ron and Hermione are Harry's best friends. They're his family. And I...I'm his friend, too. We're going." Ginny turned away from her brother and began walking towards the enormous fireplace, but Bill reached out his hand and clamped it down on her shoulder, preventing her from going any further. Suddenly, something inside Ginny broke. Blindly, she whirled around and began flailing wildly at Bill with her fists, nails, feet, anything she could use to strike him.

"Let me go, let me go, LET ME GO!" she screamed. "HE NEEDS US! HE COULD DIE!"

"Ginny, you have to...Ginny, listen...CALM DOWN AND LISTEN TO ME, DAMMIT!" Bill shouted. He wrestled with struggled to stop her without injuring her, but he seemed completely at a loss for a way to quiet her until Ron stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her in a vise-like grip to still her.

"Ginny, you're not helping," Ron said softly to her. Ginny suddenly went limp, and would have fallen if Ron hadn't been holding her up. Bill watched them from a few steps back, a look of disbelief and fear in his eyes, as if he didn't know her. Ron looked up at him. "Take us to St. Mungo's. Now."

Bill handed the Butterbeer bottles over to Kingsley, then he guided Hermione to the fireplace while Ron hoisted Ginny into his arms and carried her. Bill grabbed a double handful of Floo Powder from the mantle and stepped into the crowded hearth. In a flash of green smoke, they were on their way.

_This place is always freezing,_ Ron thought to himself. _Winter, summer, every time I've ever been here, it's like an icebox._

He was sitting on a poorly cushioned medieval torture device masquerading as a sofa upholstered in scratchy green wool. It had occurred to him several times that would probably be just as comfortable sitting on the floor, probably more so. However, Ginny had fallen asleep with her head in his lap, and Hermione was leaning bonelessly against him, as if he were the only thing keeping her upright, and he didn't want to disturb either of them. He shifted as best as he could to try and bring some sensation back into his legs, which had long since gone numb, and felt Hermione's hand tighten in his.

"It's been so long," she murmured.

Ron nodded, not trusting himself to speak until he found something encouraging to say.

"That's good. It means they're working on him, and he's getting better. It's better than..." Ron trailed off as he spied his father walking down the corridor towards them, along with Professor Dumbledore, both of them bearing expressions of grim resignation. Every muscle in his body tensed, causing both Hermione and Ginny to rouse from their positions on the sofa. Ron knew he had to get up, get out of there, go find Harry and shake him...wake him...make him live, make this not true...not true...not true.

But it was too late. His father and the professor had reached them, were standing before them, were speaking to them, to him.

"Ron," his father said softly. Ron didn't think he had _ever_ heard his father's voice sound so broken. Defeated, Ron pulled his hands away from Ginny and Hermione. He leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees, shoving his hands into his shaggy hair and covering his ears while he stared blankly at the floor. He didn't want to hear them say it. He didn't have to.

"Daddy?" Ginny asked, her voice hoarse from screaming at Bill earlier. "Harry's okay, isn't he?"

"No, dear. I'm afraid he isn't."

"But...no. No. No," Ginny repeated, as if she were stuck.

"He's gone, isn't he?" Hermione asked softly.

"Yes," Ron heard his father say. Hot tears pooled in his eyes, ran down his nose, splashed onto the floor between his feet. It occurred to him that he should be ashamed. Men don't cry. But he looked up then and saw that his father's eyes were glistening with tears of his own as he addressed them.

"Yes. The staff did everything they could, but...yes. He's gone."

Hermione's face crumpled, and Ginny let out a low moan of anguish. Ron felt a hot rush of anger. There had to be something else they could do. It wasn't fair. An hour ago, Harry had been talking, and laughing and looking forward to going back to Hogwarts. It couldn't be true. He stood and faced these two men who must be trying to trick him.

"No, he's not gone," he heard himself say. "You tell them, Dad, you tell them they can't give up. It's _Harry."_

Arthur stepped towards his son as if to embrace him, but Ron jumped back.

"Ron, there's nothing more they can do. The poison acted almost instantaneously. They don't even know what it was, and they weren't able to find an antidote. Harry's gone."

Ron jumped up. If his father wouldn't tell them, he would do it, as soon as he found them. They had to be down there, somewhere, in the direction that his dad and Professor Dumbledore had come from. He would find them, and he would _make_ them help Harry, at wand-point if he had to.

"Ron," Arthur began, reaching for Ron's shoulder, but Ron shook him off.

"I'm going to find Harry," Ron said. "Then you'll see. This has all been some kind of misunderstanding."

Professor Dumbledore stepped in front of Ron.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I cannot allow you to do that. Harry's body has been placed in protective custody and will remain there until funeral services can be arranged."

"We can't even see him?" Hermione choked out.

"No, Miss Granger. I am sorry."

Ron started to push past Dumbledore, but he felt something he could only describe as an invisible field of energy pushing him back, repelling him from going any further. He turned and saw Hermione hunched over, sobbing quietly into her hands. Ginny was rocking back and forth, staring unblinkingly at the wall as their father stroked her hair. Another surge of anger swept over Ron. He couldn't believe they had come this far, that they had survived bloody Voldemort and his bloody Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic, only to face Harry's murder. He had begun to hope that they might all survive to finish Hogwarts, even survive the war everyone knew was coming, and that Harry would ultimately defeat that evil bastard.

It couldn't happen like this. It wasn't fair. With a yell of rage, Ron turned and slammed his fist into the stone wall above the Professor's shoulder. A wave of pain washed over him, dousing the flame of his anger and bringing blessed numbness with it as he sank to the floor. He barely registered Hermione's cry of dismay. At a signal from Dumbledore, a short, but stout medi-witch vaguely resembling his mother stepped forward and held a paper cup to Ron's lips, encouraging him in a kind voice to drink it like a good boy. He couldn't think of a good reason not to, so he did. Not long after, he drifted off into oblivion.

Ron couldn't tell if it was nearing dusk or dawn when he awoke. The faint light from the window was gray, and there didn't seem to be a clock nearby to give him any other clue as to what time it might be. He head felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton, and he was aware of a faint throbbing in his right hand. He lay still for a moment, concentrating on breathing while he tried to suss out his whereabouts.

"Ron?" a feminine voice asked from somewhere in the vicinity of his right shoulder. He turned and could barely make out the faint outline of long, bushy hair in the shadows.

"'Mione?" he mumbled around the furry sock that someone seemed to have stuffed in his mouth.

A slim, cool hand touched his arm tentatively then withdrew after a moment. The same soft voice from before replied, "I'm here. Your mum asked me to stay with you. She's with Ginny."

"What happened?" He knew he should remember, but he couldn't quite manage to unravel his thoughts just yet.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Hermione asked carefully.

Ron struggled to think clearly. There was Diagon Alley, and the Leaky Cauldron...and Harry. "Harry. He's gone. Dad told us, at St. Mungo's."

"We're still there." Hermione reached over to a small nightstand and pulled the chain of the lamp. It flared into brightness, causing Ron to wince, both from the light and from the small army of pixies hammering away at his skull from the inside. He closed his eyes until they had partially adjusted to the illumination, then he focused on Hermione. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were splotchy.

"Are you okay?" he asked stupidly, and then mentally cursed himself. Of course she wasn't okay. None of them were okay. Harry was dead. It occurred to him that he must have been given some kind of drug. He felt not unlike the time he and the twins had filched a bottle of Fire-whiskey from Bill and proceeded to drink themselves sick. Everything was fuzzy around the edges, and nothing seemed quite real.

Hermione just shook her head in answer. "Are you?" she asked.

"My hand hurts," Ron replied. Hermione smiled wanly.

"It should. The medi-witch said you broke four of your knuckles when you punched the wall. She gave you a draught for the pain, and a bone-knitting potion, but she said it would be a few days before your hand is completely healed."

Ron glanced down at his hand, then up at her. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the pain in his head, or his heart. He'd lost a brother. Hermione seemed to know what he was thinking.

"There is no potion for that pain, Ron."

Ron nodded and looked away. Several long moments passed before he felt he could speak again without breaking down in front of her.

"You said Mum was with Ginny? Did they take her home, then?"

A shadow crossed Hermione's face. "No. She's here, on another floor. They admitted her yesterday, not long after they admitted you."

Ron glanced back at Hermione, surprised. "She's here? Why?"

Hermione looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure if I should be the one to explain."

"Hermione, just tell me. What's wrong with Ginny?"

"I don't really know, Ron. I just know that, after your dad told us about Harry, she just seemed to kind of...stop. I think she's in shock."

"Stop? What do you mean stop?"

"Stop...everything. She stopped moving, stopped speaking. Her eyes don't even blink much. She's on the fourth floor. Your mum and dad are taking turns staying with her, and they've both checked in on you several times, too."

"How long have we been here?" Ron asked faintly.

Hermione checked her wristwatch. "Over 24 hours. It's around 8 o'clock in the evening."

Ron was quiet again for a long time. Hermione shifted restlessly in her chair and finally stood.

"Why don't I give you some privacy?" she asked gently. "I can come back later." She began moving towards the door, but Ron reached out to her with his good hand.

"No, Hermione. Please...stay."

Hermione hesitated, but she turned back and walked around to the other side of the bed where she grasped Ron's uninjured hand in her own.

"I will, if you really want me to."

Ron nodded, swallowing hard. He shifted over in the bed and tugged on her hand, hoping she would understand what he was unable to say. Without a word, she crawled in beside him and tucked her head into his shoulder.

"I don't know how to go on without him," Hermione murmured against his skin.

Ron didn't know either, so he didn't say a word. He just held her.

"Look what you've done to them. Look what you've done to _her. _I haven't seen her like this since...well, you know when."

"Yes, I remember. She's taking the news far worse than any of us expected."

"I'm afraid for her sanity. Something about her eyes. It's as if she's empty. If she doesn't recover...suffice it to say, I'm holding you responsible."

"I'm well aware of that. I hold myself as responsible as well. However, I believe she'll pull through. She's stronger than anyone gives her credit for. She's proved that more than once."

"Yes, but there are limits."

"If she can't handle this, how do you think she'll handle what's to come?"

"I don't know that any of us can handle what's to come."

"We will, because we must. There is no other option."

"Mum?"

Molly Weasley whipped her head around to find her youngest son framed in the doorway. He looked pale and drawn, and his right hand was swathed in bandages, but he was _alive, _and she couldn't be more grateful.

"Oh, Ronald," she started, but the tears wouldn't let her get any further. She cupped her hands over her mouth in a futile attempt to stem the sobs threatening to tear forth. She hated to cry in front of her children. How could she help them if she was a weeping, sobbing mess? But Ron didn't seem to care. He crossed the room in three strides and pulled his mother into a fierce hug, the first he had volunteered for in, well, more years than she cared to count. She stroked his hair and thanked the fates she could still do so.

Finally Ron released her and looked over at the bed where Ginny lay. Her eyes were open, but she didn't seem to notice he was there.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She won't speak, she hasn't eaten since the day before yesterday, but she'll swallow a sip of water now and then. The medi-wizards are considering putting her on a nutrition potion if she doesn't rouse herself soon," Molly said wearily. "I just wish there were some way I could reach her, get her to wake up. I haven't seen her like this since..."

"Since Riddle's diary," Ron finished for her. Molly nodded in response. "Mum, you look tired, and I'm feeling much better. Why don't you let me sit with her for a while? Maybe grab a bite to eat?"

He was afraid she was going to argue, but after a moment she nodded.

"All right. I'll only be gone a few minutes."

Molly left the room and Ron shut the door behind her before he returned to Ginny's side. She was still facing forward, her eyes open in the same eerie stare he had seen on her face the day before. Ron edged his way onto the bed and picked up one of his sister's hands. It was cold as ice.

"Ginny, you have to wake up," he said roughly. "It's been two days. You have to eat something. Mum's about to go spare, worrying over you."

No response.

"Ginny, if you don't snap out of it this instant, I swear I'll get Fred and George in here to use you as a test subject. You'd be perfect for them. No complaining."

No response.

"Ginny...I can't lose you, too."

That seemed to have an effect. A single tear trickled down one of Ginny's cheeks.

"And think what it will do to Mum and Dad. They've lost a son. I've lost a brother. Goddammit, Ginny, you're being completely selfish. He was _my_ best friend. You have no right..."

"You don't know what he was to me."

Ginny's voice was raw and scratchy, though whether from disuse or from screaming at Bill, Ron didn't know. Her voice was flat, and she still hadn't looked at him.

"No, I don't," Ron agreed quietly. "I can't know that unless you tell me, and you can't do that if you just...shut down. Talk to me."

"I can't," Ginny replied, her voice breaking.

"Why not?"

"Like you said, I don't have the right. You and Hermione loved him."

"And you didn't?"

More tears joined the one that had fallen earlier.

"I don't know. It was hard to sort out sometimes."

Ron nodded. The pain in her voice was almost as hard to bear as his own. She was his little sister. He was supposed to protect her from things that hurt her. He felt as helpless now as he had the night she had been taken into the Chamber.

"You were going out with Corner last year. Hermione said you had given up on Harry. And on the train you said..."

Ginny looked at Ron as if he were daft, a spark of ire flashing in her eyes. "Well, of course I had given up on him. What, did you expect I would just pine away for him the rest of my life? He hardly knew I existed until this past year. And that's what makes it so hard."

Ron waited patiently until Ginny could continue.

"Giving up isn't really the same thing as getting over, you know. Just because I found someone else to be with, someone who liked me, that didn't mean that my feelings for Harry just disappeared. It mostly just meant I wasn't going to wait around for him to decide I was the love of his life. _That_ would have been selfish, not to mention self-destructive. But this past year...I started to think we were getting to be friends, finally. And I couldn't help but hope, just a little, that maybe, someday..." Ginny broke off, looking away. After a moment she finished in a small voice, "So, yeah, I'm selfish. I'm sorry, Ron."

Ron started to argue but a knock at the door startled them both. Hermione's head peeped in, her face brightening somewhat when she saw that Ginny was awake.

"You're up?"

Ginny nodded

"I've come to find Ron. Your dad's looking for you, he has your discharge papers."

Ron nodded. "I'll go find him. Would you stay with Ginny? Mum said she'd be back in a few minutes, but I don't want to leave..."

"Of course I will." She managed a wan smile as Ron left, then she turned to Ginny. "How are you? Can I get you anything?"

"Some water, please. I'm parched."

Hermione found a pitcher full of cool water on the small stand at the foot of Ginny's bed, along with a stack of paper cups. She filled one and carried it Ginny, who smiled gratefully before downing it. Hermione immediately refilled the cup, and this time Ginny sipped slowly, grimacing slightly.

"My stomach hurts," she said.

"That can happen sometimes when you haven't eaten for a while and you fill your stomach suddenly. It will probably go away in a minute or two." Hermione took the cup when Ginny was finished and tossed it in the waste bin.

"Are you all right?"

Ginny shook her head.

"No." She didn't elaborate, but she didn't have to. Hermione nodded in understanding. "Have they made any arrangements yet? For the...the services?"

"It's to be held at Hogwarts. Family and close friends only."

"Where will he..."

"Professor Dumbledore said there's a small cemetery on the grounds. It's usually reserved for staff, but they've made a few exceptions over the years. It seemed the best place for him.

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

A lump arose in Ginny's throat, and she turned her face towards the window to avoid Hermione's gaze. "That's my birthday," she whispered.

"I know," Hermione said. "Your mum tried to stop them, but Professor Dumbledore said it was imperative they not delay the service. Apparently the poison they used...well, it has some unusual effects on..." Hermione was unable to finish. "They're holding the service tomorrow. Closed casket."

Ginny nodded. "I think I'd like to be alone now, if you don't mind, Hermione. I'll be all right until mum comes back." Hermione opened her mouth as if to disagree, but Ginny whispered, "Please."

"All right. But I'll be right outside the door."

Ginny nodded again but didn't turn to watch her go. She heard her soft footfalls as she approached the door, then the creak of the hinges and the quiet click as the door latched shut again.

Although Molly often spelled her knitting needles to work without her supervision, she enjoyed knitting by hand whenever she found the time. There was something soothing in the repetitive motions, a quiet peace to be found in concentrating on the shafts of steel and loops of yarn and admiring the smooth, uniform pattern they made. Often, her children and husband found it necessary to call her name more than once to get her attention while she was knitting.

This day, however, Molly was unable to find the peace she sought, as her glance darted again and again to her youngest child, who was all but dwarfed by the hospital bed in which she lay. Her skin was as pale as the sheets, and the copper freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks stood out against her face in stark relief. Her eyes were currently closed, but Molly was not fooled. Her breathing was too irregular, and she was far too still to be sleeping. She would be released from the St. Mungo's tomorrow, according to the doctors, but they had insisted she remain one day longer for observation. Molly was in agreement. Ginny had awakened screaming several times in the night, and Molly had only been able to discern two names in her broken speech. The first, "Harry" was to be expected. She didn't doubt that Ginny would relive-the nightmare of Harry collapsing against her for weeks, even months to come. The second name, however, was one she hadn't heard Ginny utter since the summer after her first year at Hogwarts, and one that Molly hoped she would never hear on her daughter's lips again. Molly nearly dropped her knitting needles in surprise when Ginny spoke.

"I want to go home, Mum."

"We are going home, dear, tomorrow. That is unless you don't eat something," Molly said, nodding to the untouched tray of food the nurse had brought earlier.

"No. I mean I want to go _home. _To The Burrow. Not to Grimmauld Place."

Molly set her knitting down with a small sigh. "I know, Ginny. We all want to go home to The Burrow. But I think you understand why we can't. It's not safe any longer. Especially now."

Ginny didn't answer, which didn't surprise Molly. She took after Arthur in many respects. Though she was generally good-natured and easy-going, when she didn't want to discuss something, there wasn't a force in the world that could cause her to do so. When she had awakened earlier that morning to the sound of raindrops gently striking the windowpane, she had said she was glad it was raining. She hadn't spoken again until she had voiced her desire to go home. Molly glanced around the blank, sterile walls of the hospital room and sighed. The gray light filtering in from outside only made the room seem more dismal. She had offered to brighten it up a bit with some flowers and a picture or two, but Ginny had flatly declined.

"Mum, what will happen now?"

"What do you mean, Ginny?" Molly asked carefully.

Ginny turned to face her, her dark brown eyes searching for a moment before she spoke again.

"I know there was something special about Harry. I mean, besides being The Boy Who Lived."

"Of course there was, Ginny. Harry was...very gifted, and--"

"No, Mum!" Ginny interrupted. "It was more than that. Do you remember when Dad used to tell us bedtime stories about Harry?"

"Certainly."

"I used to ask him why You-Know...why Voldemort wanted to kill Harry. He always said that it was because Voldemort was evil, and that no one really knows why evil men do the things they do. But there has to be _some_ reason," Ginny insisted. "He was just a baby."

"Harry's parents were members of the Order, Ginny. Voldemort didn't need any other reason. He frequently killed entire families; you know that."

Ginny shook her head. "That doesn't explain why he came after Harry after he resurfaced. Why he didn't stop until Harry was..."

Molly stared at her daughter. She didn't have all the answers; she suspected only Dumbledore did. But Ginny was hurting, and she needed an explanation, or her questions would continue to eat away inside her. Molly wasn't comfortable discussing these kinds of things with her youngest child. She had hoped she would never have to have a discussion like this with any of her children, but her hope had almost disintegrated the moment Harry had reappeared in the maze, bleeding and in shock, clinging to the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory. Finally she settled on an answer.

"Ginny, I think one of the things that made Harry special was that he was a symbol of hope to all of us. Before, when Voldemort was growing more powerful by the day, we didn't have much hope. No one could stop him, until Harry. A little boy accomplished what the most powerful wizards could not. And that gave us hope, Ginny. Harry gave us all hope; he was a living symbol of our hope that good will eventually overcome evil. And I believe Voldemort wanted to destroy that symbol."

Ginny appeared to mull these thoughts over for a time before her eyes filled with tears.

"It wasn't fair for him to bear that burden," Ginny said. "How was one boy supposed to bear the burden of hope for so many people?"

Molly reached her hand out to grasp her daughter's.

"I don't know, Ginny," she said, as she pulled a handkerchief from her sewing basket and offered it to her daughter. Ginny swiped furiously at the tears that had begun to spill over, and then looked at her mother with such pain in her eyes that Molly nearly broke down herself.

"Is it over yet, Mum?"

Molly checked her watch. It was only half-past eleven. The service had likely only just begun.

"Soon, Ginny. It will be over soon."

"_**We therefore commit his body to the ground...**_

It was raining when they laid Harry's body to rest. Hermione's fingers ached from clinging to Ron's, whose grip on her hand was like a vise, but she didn't mind the pain. That pain was real and tangible, it was something she could focus on, and she had to focus on something, anything but the highly polished casket being lowered into the ground in front of them. Hermione always hated this part of the service. She hated every part, but this part especially, where it felt like some part of you was being ripped from your soul to lay buried along with the dead. She hadn't attended many funerals, but even those few were enough to convince her that she hated them. Never mind the logical reason behind them, that the living somehow needed closure so they could begin the process of healing. She didn't care. She didn't want to be logical about funerals, or, for that matter, death in general. There was no logic in Harry's death, no comfort to be found in the cycle of life. Harry's death was empty.

"_**...earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust..."**_

Aside from herself, the Weasleys, and a handful of their professors, Hermione noticed several members of the Order in attendance as well. They stood together, near the foot of Harry's grave, and as they listened to the priest, they kept a watchful eye on the surroundings. Lupin was there, along with Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a non-descript girl with dark hair that Hermione realized with a start was Tonks. She knew all of them could claim a certain level of friendship, but based on their stance, wands drawn but held discreetly, Hermione surmised they were there for reasons other than to pay their respects.

"_**...in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life."**_

There was a moment of silence, and then Hermione watched Professor Dumbledore scoop a handful of earth from the mound nearby and release it gently into the opening at their feet, where it scattered across the top of the casket. Mr. Weasley was next, then Bill, Charlie, the twins, and then Ron. Then, nothing. When Hermione looked up, many of the faces were turned towards her, and she realized they expected her to do the same. Hermione went rigid; she gave her head a sharp shake, and then Professor McGonagall stepped up instead, followed by the rest of Harry's teachers that were in attendance. When Hagrid's enormous clump of earth hit the casket with a resounding _thud, _Hermione felt an insane urge to giggle. Hagrid was inconsolable, crying huge tears of genuine grief, and all Hermione wanted to do was laugh until she was sick.

Vaguely she felt the pain in her hand cease, and when she realized Ron had released his grip, she almost cried out, _no, give it back. _But then it was replaced by the firm grip of someone's hand on her shoulder, their arm snug against her back. A handkerchief appeared in front of her face, and Ron said huskily in her ear, "Here, take it," as he guided her towards a nearby bench.

It was only then Hermione realized she had been sobbing, and that the funeral was over.


	11. Chapter 10: Crime and Punishment

_Almost there...almost there..._

_Fwack!_

Harry jerked his fingers back as the Bludger collided with the Snitch, which spiraled downwards out of his reach before zooming off to hide again. He swore violently, cursing Malfoy, cursing Crabbe and Goyle, and cursing himself for not being more alert. They had been practicing non-stop for close to two hours and his energy level was lagging. He had to give Malfoy credit for one thing: he certainly knew how to put the team through their paces. He tensed when he heard the Slytherin captain screaming at them from his position in front of the hoops.

"Crabbe! Goyle! What the hell do you think you're doing? Aim for the Seeker, not the Snitch! You should have been able to hit him easily at that distance."

Harry groaned. If he didn't know better, he would swear Malfoy was trying to kill him. Who knew? Maybe he was. Maybe Malfoy was playing an elaborate prank on him and didn't have any intention of letting him play Seeker. He wouldn't put it past him. Harry had been shocked when Malfoy had given him the position of Seeker without a fight.

"Jameson! You should have caught that Snitch ten minutes ago! I've seen flesh-eating slugs that move faster than you! It's not too late for you to be replaced; there are a dozen of your house-mates who would jump at the chance."

Harry held his tongue in check. The last thing he wanted was for Malfoy to kick him off the team. This was the most fun he'd had since...well, since last spring -before that, even. It had been a year since Harry remembered feeling this exhilarated and this bone-tired, which was different than the fatigue that had plagued him since Sirius's death, over the sleepless nights he'd spent avoiding the dreams that connected him to Voldemort. Doggedly, he swooped into a steep dive and rolled into a sharp turn, pushing his Nimbus 3000 to its limits in pursuit of the Snitch. It was hovering near the very top of one of the private Hufflepuff boxes, almost blending in with the bright yellow flag at the pinnacle. Straining with effort, Harry put on a last burst of speed and just managed to close his fingers around the elusive winged ball. Exhausted, he dropped his speed down to an easy glide and made a half lap around the pitch before coming to rest at the goal hoops, where Malfoy and the rest of the team were now waiting. With a smirk he couldn't quite restrain, he tossed the now docile Snitch to his captain. Malfoy snatched it out of the air with a snarl.

"It's about time. I could have caught that thing five times over by now," he said sourly. "And as for the rest of you, I've never seen a lazier, more pathetic bunch of losers in my life. Crabbe, Goyle, you couldn't hit the north face of the castle if you were aiming for it. Parkinson, Baddock, Pritchard, there are _three_ hoops back there. You should be able to put _something_ past the Keeper. Weasley's skills may be dismal, but after your performance today, we might as well forfeit the first match to Gryffindor. It would be far less embarrassing.

Harry thought he heard a sniffle from Pansy, but the rest of the players maintained stoic expressions as their captain continued berating them. Then, Malfoy turned to him.

"As for you, I expect you to do 500 laps around the pitch. You're obviously out of shape. My grandmother could Seek better than you did tonight."

"But that's another hour's worth of flying, at least! You know we have a test tomorrow in Potions. When am I supposed to study? Or sleep?" Harry asked furiously.

"I suggest you learn to fly faster, then," Malfoy suggested with a nasty laugh. "Everyone else is dismissed."

Harry took a step towards Malfoy, intent on hexing the sneer from his face once and for all. Only the thought of being relegated to the stands for the second year in a row stopped him. Instead, he mounted his broom and took off furiously, veering within scant inches of Malfoy before racing off to begin the prescribed laps. As he reached the far end of the pitch, he noticed the Gryffindor team members trooping onto the field as the rest of the Slytherins were leaving. He thought he could see Ron gesturing towards him, and deduced he was complaining about the presence of one of the "enemy" during their practice time. As he watched, Ginny stepped up beside Ron and caught hold of his arm, pulling him away from Malfoy. Finally, Ron acquiesced and directed his attention to his team instead. Ginny, however, gave Harry an exuberant wave before she mounted her own broom to do warm-up laps. She fell into formation behind him, with the rest of the Gryffindor team scattered into various position as they circled the pitch. Harry deliberately slowed his pace so that Ginny could catch up with him.

"Having fun?" she called as she came even with him.

"Don't ask," he grunted.

They flew together for a lap or two, but then Ron caught up to them. Ron said nothing, but the glare he shot Harry convinced him to nod farewell to Ginny before seeking a higher plane on which to finish his laps. An hour later, the Gryffindor team was well into their practice session as Harry came to a stop at one of the private boxes. His head was spinning, and for several minutes he was afraid he might be sick. He dismounted in the stands and climbed to the highest point where he tucked himself into a corner and closed his eyes.

_No good, that just makes the spinning worse,_ he thought as he snapped his eyes open once more.

He found that the dizziness was slightly better if he focused on a point in the distance.

Ginny came into view then, her bright hair gathered into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She paused in mid-air, her hand shielding her eyes from the late afternoon sun. As he watched, she gripped the broom with both hands and took off at top speed, obviously after the Snitch. Harry tracked her movements for a few moments. He had not seen her fly since the match against Hufflepuff the previous year, and she had improved measurably since then. He could see that Fred and George had been correct in their initial assessment; Ginny _was_ good, surprisingly good. It was just too bad that she was riding a Cleansweep 5, no doubt either borrowed or inherited from one of the twins.

However, what she lacked in speed she made up for in daring. As the Snitch shot up and away, Ginny climbed with it until she was nearly perpendicular to the ground, and Harry had to squint in order to see her clearly. Abruptly, the Snitch changed directions, spiraling down towards Ginny instead of away from her. It shot past just over her head, but far enough beyond that she couldn't reach it. Frustrated in the attempt, Ginny pulled up hard on the handle of her broom. The abrupt change in momentum caused the broom to flip end over tail, sending Ginny into a free-fall until she spied the Snitch again, zigzagging madly as if attempting to shake her off. Ginny tracked it for a few moments, following closely. Suddenly, Ginny veered right when the Snitch veered left. They reversed directions simultaneously, which brought the Snitch directly into Ginny's path. Grinning, she deftly reached out and captured the little golden ball, to the cheers of her teammates. Harry couldn't help but smile as she presented the Snitch to Ron, whose response was to toss it back into play. Ginny tossed her head back in an obvious gesture of frustration, but she tore after the Snitch once more, missing the grin that Ron shot at her back.

Harry leaned his head back against the wall once more and relaxed, his dizziness having mostly abated. _I'll just rest here a few more minutes,_ he thought.

"That tosser is still up there spying on us," Ron growled as Ginny returned the Snitch to him for the third time.

Ginny looked up towards the Hufflepuff box, where she could see Evan leaning against the back wall.

"Give him a break, Ron. He's probably just resting. He must have flown a few hundred laps. I'd have probably puked after the first hundred, and I'll wager you would have, too."

"Why are you so willing to give him the benefit of the doubt?" Ron asked. "I should think that _you_ of all people would have second thoughts about trusting a-"

"Because he hasn't given me any reason not to, Ron," she interrupted sharply, snapping her gaze back to his.

"Wait 'til Mum finds out. She'll have kittens," Ron grumbled as Ginny mounted her broom to return to the air and began to glide away, but she turned to answer.

"Mum already knows-I wrote to her about him the first week."

Ron's mouth gaped open as Ginny flashed him an impertinent smirk. He shook his head in disgust and then hurled the Snitch into the air as hard as he could. Ginny watched as it soared past and followed the same path her gaze had taken earlier, towards the Hufflepuff box. Grinning, she chased after it, exhilarated by the rush of the wind against her face. Though it was true she generally preferred Chasing to Seeking, she had to admit that there was something thrilling about the search for the Snitch. She was the huntress and the Snitch was her prey, elusive and quick. Like a cat toying with a mouse, Ginny alternated fierce pursuit with moments of half-hearted interest in an attempt to coax the winged ball out of hiding. She paused in front of the Hufflepuff box, diligently searching the sky for a flash of gold and silver.

"It went that way," Evan called to her from his seat at the top of the box, pointing in the direction of the Ravenclaw box across the field.

"Thanks, but I think I'm capable of finding it on my own," Ginny replied smartly, but she grinned at Evan as she aimed her broom in the direction he had indicated. There it was, hovering in front of the Ravenclaw box as if hoping she wouldn't notice it. Ginny urged the broom into a slight dive, intending to approach the Snitch from underneath.

Instead, the broom gave a horrible shudder and lurched violently to one side before coming to a dead stop in mid-air. The centrifugal forces caught Ginny unprepared. A short scream escaped her as she lost her grip on the broom and was thrown over the side; she only just managed to grab hold of the handle again with one hand. Fear of plummeting to the ground gave her the adrenaline she needed to swing one of her legs over the handle, leaving her dangling precariously in the "starfish and stick" position. Unfortunately, it was a maneuver she had never practiced, as it was largely used by Keepers, and she found she couldn't quite manage to climb back into a seated position. Already, her arm and leg were aching from the exertion, and her sweaty grip on the handle was slipping. As she glanced down towards the ground, a wave of nausea swept over her, and blackness began to creep into the edges of her vision. Ginny recognized the sensation of approaching unconsciousness and closed her eyes, hoping to stave off the inevitable.

_"Ginny..."_

Icy terror coursed through Ginny's veins. She recognized that voice, but it couldn't possibly be his.

_"Ginny, let go."_

Eyes still closed, Ginny shook her head fiercely, only half-aware of doing so.

_Tom. That's Tom's voice. He wants me to fall. He wants me to die. I can feel him pulling...pulling me down with him, into the dark._

"Ginny!"

Ginny's eyes snapped open to find Evan's face hovering near hers, etched with concern. His arm was around her waist, and he was gently pulling her towards his own broomstick.

"Come on, Ginny, just let go. I've got you."

Ginny had to force herself to release her white-knuckled grip from her broom handle. Evan tugged hard as she flopped downwards, yanking her firmly onto the front of his broom. He pulled her up close so that her back was against his chest, his arm still wrapped firmly around her waist.

"Cushioning Charm doesn't extend very far," he mumbled in her ear. "Hang on."

Ginny clutched the handle with both hands, her heart thumping hard in her chest as Evan maneuvered his broom higher so that he could reach Ginny's broom, which was still hovering in mid-air. He let go of Ginny's waist long enough to shut down the Hovering Charm on her broom. Then, with one hand around her broom and one hand around Ginny, he gave a short laugh. Ginny realized he couldn't reach around her to steer the broom, and changing positions now would be difficult.

"I think you'll have to do the flying," he said sheepishly. Ginny turned her head to see two bright spots of color had bloomed in Evan's cheeks. He looked away, back towards the far end of the pitch. "And you'd better hurry. We seem to be attracting an audience."

Ginny followed his gaze to see that a small crowd had gathered on the ground and that most of the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team were flying towards them. Ron was in the lead, a look of fury on his face. Ginny heaved an exasperated sigh and warily set the broom in motion. It glided smoothly under her tentative command, and as she began to relax, she swooped up and over the approaching Gryffindors before launching into a deep spiral. Evan's grip on her waist tightened in response.

"Hey, watch it! I'm not used to riding tandem, you know!"

"Sorry," Ginny called back. "It's just that I've never ridden a broom as nice as this one before. It's marvelous!"

Gently, she leveled out of the spiral dive and guided the broom to a stop at the end of the pitch, where she and Evan dismounted. Rather than exchanging brooms, Evan began examining her Cleansweep. Moments later, Ron landed, followed by the rest of the team members. Colin and Dennis rushed over to Ginny, clapping her heartily on the back as they exclaimed over her well-being. Ron pushed them aside impatiently.

"Ginny, are you all right? What happened up there?" Ron asked, concern for his sister temporarily outweighing his outrage at her proximity to a Slytherin.

"I'm all right," Ginny assured him. "I'm not sure what happened, really. My broom just sort of...stopped."

"Sounds like someone jinxed it," Ron said, directing a sharp glare towards Evan.

"Ron, stop it. Evan had nothing to do with it. If it hadn't been for him, I might have fallen." _To my death,_ Ginny added silently, glancing at Evan. "Thank you," she said when he looked up from her broom.

"It's all right," he said. "I'm just glad you're okay. I don't think I can say the same about your broom, though. I think the braking charm is stuck. I'm no expert, but you'll probably have to have it repaired."

Ginny's face fell as she reached for the broom and handed Evan his, but she tried to play it off. "That's bound to be expensive," she said lightly. "Ron, do you think Mum'll give me an advance on my allowance until I'm, oh...twenty-five?"

Ron shook his head grimly. "Even if she could, you'd have to send it out to be repaired. It could take weeks. There's no guarantee you'd have it back before the first match."

"If it's a matter of money I could..." Evan began tentatively, but Ginny shook her head.

"No. Thanks, but I couldn't possibly accept it. It's sweet of you to offer, though," Ginny said, smiling warmly at Evan. He blushed faintly again, but smiled in return. "I'll take it to Madam Hooch and see what she thinks. Maybe she can fix it," Ginny continued hopefully. Ron brightened considerably.

"That's a great idea, Ginny. Give it over, I'll take it for you. Practice is over for the day," he called loudly, and as the rest of the team dispersed, he looked back to Ginny. "It's getting late. Don't you have homework to finish, or something?" he asked pointedly as he reached for Ginny's broom. Ginny snatched it out of his grasp.

"Ron, you're about as subtle as a Bludger to the head," Ginny hissed through clenched teeth, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. She turned her back on her brother and apologized to Evan.

"I'm sorry. I think my brothers dropped him on his head repeatedly when he was a baby. Would you mind walking me back to the castle?"

Before answering, Evan eyed Ron warily, who remained silent under Ginny's threatening glare.

"Erm, no, I wouldn't mind a bit," he said.

"Oi, who's going to help me carry the equipment to the storage room?" Ron complained as Ginny and Evan started walking towards the castle.

"You'll figure something out. Try a Levitation Charm," Ginny called back. 

The sound of a muttered charm drifted towards them as they walked, followed by a loud _thump_ and the sound of vehement cursing. Ginny laughed evilly.

"D'you think we should go back and help him?" Evan asked, glancing back at Ron.

"No. Serves him right for being such a prat," Ginny replied acidly. "Besides, it's his own fault if he can't manage a simple Levitating Charm."

"Fair enough," Evan said, and they continued towards the castle. He accompanied her all the way to Madam Hooch's office on the second floor, where Ginny reluctantly turned her broom over to the flying instructor after giving her the details of her mishap. Madam Hooch assured her that she would do her best to repair the broom, and if not, she would make arrangements for Ginny to borrow one of the school brooms for Quidditch. Ginny thanked her politely, but her heart was heavy as she bade the professor farewell.

"I think I'd better tell Ron to hold tryouts for a new Seeker," Ginny said morosely as they left Madam Hooch's office behind.

"Why would you do that?" Evan asked, furrowing his brow in consternation.

"Because there's no way I'll catch the Snitch on a school broom." Ginny answered with a sad laugh. "If I wait to see whether or not Madam Hooch can repair my broom, it may be too late for Ron to replace me."

Evan was silent for a moment. "I don't think you resign just yet," he said finally.

"Why not?"

"Oh, well, you know. Sometimes things have a way of working out. Madam Hooch can probably fix your broom. And even if she can't, the school brooms can't be much more outdated than that Cleansweep of yours, can it?"

Ginny flushed with embarrassment. She knew Evan didn't mean to be insulting, but sometimes the consequences of being "less fortunate" than most of her peers stung a bit. Evan seemed to notice her discomfort, judging by the rueful expression that crossed his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way it sounded," he said, shaking his head. "You must think I'm an insufferable git."

"I wouldn't say _insufferable,_" Ginny teased gently, winning a smile from Evan. "And you're wrong about the school brooms. They belong in a museum."

"Just the same...give Madam Hooch a chance."

"I will." Ginny looked around and noticed for the first time that they were approaching the seventh-floor landing. "You didn't have to walk me all the way up here, Evan."

"It's all right. I, er, enjoyed the company," he replied quickly. "Anyway, I need to visit the Owlery, so it was on the way."

"Okay, then." Ginny paused at the landing and turned to Evan. "Before you go, I just wanted to thank you, again. You probably saved my life."

Evan shook his head. "Someone would have got there in time. I was just the closest."

"I don't know. I'm not usually afraid of heights, but I just sort of froze up there. A few more seconds and I would have slipped. And then I heard..." Ginny stopped abruptly, remembering the eerie way Evan's voice had reverberated in her head, as if it hadn't truly belonged to him. She shuddered slightly, pushing that thought to the back of her mind. "Anyway, thank you."

Evan had paused on the stair step below her, putting him almost at eye level with her. Impulsively, Ginny reached over and kissed his cheek, resting her hand momentarily on his shoulder as she did so. Beneath her palm, Evan went stock-still, and as she straightened, he gazed at her incredulously, his mouth slightly agape.

Ginny stepped back, slightly unsettled herself, both by her daring and by Evan's reaction, not to mention the fact that her heart was now fluttering a few beats beyond its normal rhythm in her chest. "Good night, Evan," she said quietly.

"Good night," he repeated.

Ginny felt his eyes on her until she turned the corner, where she leaned against the wall and paused to listen as his footsteps thudded slowly up the staircase and faded away. She heaved a sigh, then spoke the password to the Fat Lady's portrait and walked into the common room, where Dean promptly greeted her with an enthusiastic kiss to the sound of catcalls by their housemates. Unsettled, Ginny decided to push Evan Jameson to the back of her mind until she had a moment's peace to think properly on the events that had transpired between them, both at Quidditch practice and just now on the staircase. 

"Hullo, girl," Harry called softly as Hedwig flew down from her perch near the top of the Owlery to greet him. She lit upon his shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately, chittering at him when he failed to produce her favorite owl treats.

"Sorry, this was an unexpected stop," he apologized as he stroked her ruffled feathers. "I need you to carry a message to Professor Dumbledore for me."

Harry paused, momentarily flummoxed by the fact that he was still wearing his Quidditch gear, and then he reached for the stash of parchment and quills that were kept handy for students who neglected to bring the necessary materials to pen their own missives. He thought for a moment, and then scribbled hastily:

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

I require several items from my personal belongings. Would it be possible for you to retrieve them for me and have them available at our next lesson?

Sincerely,

Evan 

After the previous year's debacle with the High Inquisitor inspecting every parcel of mail that was received or sent by the students, Harry wasn't comfortable listing the items he needed. He trusted that Professor Dumbledore would bring everything he required; after all, it wasn't as if he'd had ever had a great many personal belongings in the first place. Dumbledore knew that he had all the school supplies he required for the year, as well as clothing. Therefore, he would deduce which items Harry meant on his own. The only problem was whether he took it upon himself to decide that Harry had no need for those items at school. But he thought perhaps Dumbledore would understand.

He attached the note to the leg that Hedwig offered, and stroked her a few more times before she took to flight. After she disappeared from view, he left the Owlery and let his feet carry him where they would.

"Ahem. You don't really belong here, do you, dear?" a voice said kindly.

Harry looked up in surprise. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't paid any attention to his route once he left the Owlery. He had simply thought about returning to his common room, in order to get started on the enormous amount of homework he had been set by Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. Yet, instead of returning to the Slytherin common room, he was standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, on the seventh floor. Harry flushed a dull red.

"Uh, no. I, um, I guess I got lost," he mumbled.

"Back the way you came, then down the stairs to the dungeons, dear. If you need an escort, check the portrait at the end of this corridor. There's a skeleton hanging in the midst of a group of wizards who would love the chance to go for a walk. Poor thing, he gets bored hanging around on a pole all day."

"Uh, no, that's all right. I think I can find it on my own," Harry replied. He shouldered his rucksack firmly and turned to leave.

"It's not as bad as all that."

"What?"

"Slytherin House."

"How would you know?"

"My dear, I've been at Hogwarts since before your grandparents were students. You don't think that in all those years, I've only ever guarded the Gryffindor common room?"

"I, uh, I never really thought about it, to tell you the truth."

The Fat Lady laughed. "No, I don't suppose you would. Most of you students don't pay much attention to anything that goes on beyond your own house, do you?" She didn't bother to wait for a reply before continuing. "Well, I can tell you, I've been on almost every wall in this castle, including the dungeons. I'll agree, it's not the most pleasant environment, but the Slytherins aren't all bad. After all, dear, _you're_ a Slytherin, aren't you?" she asked pointedly.

Harry nodded slowly. He supposed she had a point. He didn't think he was a bad person, after all.

"Give it time. You'll find your niche. Run along now, before someone sees you and thinks you were sent to spy on them."

"Right," Harry agreed with a nervous smile. "And...thanks."

"Any time, dear."

Harry made his way back to his common room, the proper one this time, and proceeded to the sixth year boys' dormitory. He was relieved to see that it was empty. While he would take everything the Fat Lady said under advisement, he thought it would take an act of God to change his mind about Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Or perhaps a permanent personality reversal potion for the lot of them. After he doffed his practice clothes and gear, he gathered up his books and claimed one of the study tables in the common room.

Studying wasn't the same without Ron and Hermione. He was accustomed to Ron's good-natured ribbing, and Hermione's gentle admonishments, as well as the low hum of conversation among their fellow Gryffindors surrounding them in their common room. Harry preferred it to studying in the Library, where it was simply too quiet for him to think.

The Slytherin common room was the same way. The pleasant hum of voices that he found so comforting in the Gryffindor common room was absent here, partly because the common room was nearly empty, and partly because those students who did use the room for studying kept mostly to themselves and didn't engage each other in conversation. Glancing around the room, he noticed that whenever he did manage to catch someone's eye, they immediately looked away, as if to deliberately avoid speaking to him. Harry shook his head and finally spread his books out across the table. He worked alone for a while until the unusual silence was broken by the entry of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, followed by Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. As Harry watched, Pansy whispered in Malfoy's ear, and his reply caused her to blush bright pink. Harry felt slightly revolted and was glad he wasn't within earshot.

Alone of all the rest of the Slytherins, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were loud and boisterous. After Pansy and Millicent left, the three of them walked over to the sofas in front of the fire. Malfoy lounged indolently in a large sitting chair, regaling his cronies with tales of their escapades of the past week, which included terrifying several of the Gryffindor first years by locking them in the first floor broom closet and destroying the homework of a third-year Ravenclaw by feeding it to the Giant Squid. Around them, Harry noticed that several of the students who had been studying quietly were gathering their books and leaving. Others edged closer, as if they hoped to be included into this circle.

Theodore Nott was in the first group. Harry hadn't noticed him at first, across the room in a semi-dark corner. He wondered how the boy could see well enough to write anything on the parchment spread out in front of him. As he watched, Nott quietly placed his books and parchment into his rucksack and stood to leave, presumably to return to the dormitory. However, when he approached the corridor leading to the boys' dormitories, Malfoy voice stopped him.

"You've heard about Nott's father, haven't you? There was an article in the Daily Prophet this morning. Don't know how anyone could have missed it."

Crabbe and Goyle snickered loudly. Harry could see that Nott had turned white. He wondered why the boy didn't just leave, but he appeared to be rooted to the spot.

"Seems he got himself Kissed, and no one knows why. He wasn't scheduled for trial for another month, but when the Aurors went to collect him for questioning yesterday, they found him there." Here Malfoy paused and let his head loll to one side, a vacant expression on his face in a grotesque imitation of the victims of the Dementor's Kiss. "Of course, idiot that he was, it was hard to tell any difference."

"You shut up!" Nott screamed. Before anyone could stop him, he had drawn his wand and aimed it at Malfoy, a yellowish light springing forth. But Malfoy was ready for it.

"Protego!" he shouted, his own wand held aloft in front of him. He was now standing and facing his target, and he stepped onto and over the sofa to reach him. Pointing his wand at the other boy's throat, Malfoy narrowed his eyes as he spoke.

"You have a double debt to pay now, don't you? Are you going to be a coward, like your father, and try to wriggle out of it?" He didn't wait for an answer from Nott before continuing. "Get this straight. _You can't._ No one can. You might as well get that through your thick skull."

Harry observed the entire exchange in shock. No one moved to step in; and in fact, the other students who weren't directly involved were rapidly exiting the common room.

"I ought to dock house points from you, Nott," Malfoy said. "It's against the rules to jinx another student outside of class. But I won't, this time. You just remember what I said."

Another voice interrupted, one that made Harry's skin crawl.

"You _will_ dock house points, Mr. Malfoy. If you don't, I will, and I shall dock them from you as well."

Harry was pleased to see Malfoy blanch at the sound of Professor Snape's voice. At least _someone_ had some kind of influence over him and kept him in check. Malfoy set his jaw, and for a moment, Harry thought he might argue with Snape. But instead Malfoy complied and lowered his wand.

"Ten points from Slytherin, Nott," he said furiously. He looked up at Professor Snape, who nodded his approval. Malfoy seemed to take this as permission to depart, and Crabbe and Goyle followed him to their dormitory. Professor Snape turned and addressed Nott.

"Your presence is required in the Headmaster's office. I'm here to escort you."

Nott jerked his head in a sharp nod, and Harry felt sick as he watched them leave. He'd never seen the results of the Dementor's Kiss first hand, but from what he'd heard, death was preferable. Having known the loss of his own parents, Harry couldn't help but empathize with Theodore Nott. Then he remembered seeing Neville Longbottom's parents at St. Mungo's. The Lestranges had tortured them to the point of madness with the _Cruciatus_ curse. Theodore Nott's father had been at the graveyard the night Voldemort had returned. Cold anger swept through him as he remembered that night. He still bore the scar on his arm, and Amos Diggory's wails of grief rang in his ears. Nott Sr. was a Death Eater and had got what he deserved as far as Harry was concerned.

But had Theodore? What had he done to deserve the loss of his father?

Unsettled, Harry felt again the separation from his friends, the sense of disconnection from the rest of the Wizarding world. He made a mental note to take out a subscription to the Daily Prophet in the name of Evan Jameson.


	12. Chapter 11: Reminders of the Past

_Author's Note: This hasn't been thoroughly betaed. And I'm having problems including scene divisions, so I apologize for the confusion until I manage to sort that out. I do have the next chapter in the works. I cannot make promises about when it will be posted._

**Chapter 11 - Reminders of the Past**

"Ron, you heard what Madame Hooch said. She can't fix my broom. It's useless, it's toast. It's been repaired so many times it can't be re-charmed. It was Charlie's first broom! The poor thing deserves a decent burial," Ginny said across the table to her brother. "Or perhaps a nice funeral pyre."

Ron made an impatient noise and glared at his sister. "For the last time, Ginny, _no._ I'm not holding tryouts for another Seeker. We'll work something out. Even if you have to fly a school broom, that's better than my having to train a new Seeker at the last minute. Now shut up and let me eat in peace!"

Hermione shook her head and sighed quietly. Ever since Ron and Ginny had begun playing on the Gryffindor Quidditch team together, their sibling spats had become more and more heated. Though, when she thought about it, she didn't remember them quibbling to this extent last year.

_Of course, Harry was around last year, _she thought sadly. Ginny had her own crowd of friends that she usually spent time with until this year. It wasn't as if she was trying to take Harry's place, more as if...now there was room for her. Hermione's eyes burned at the familiar and hated sense of loss and fear. To cover it, she intervened with Ron and Ginny.

"Ron, that's no way to talk to your sister," she broke in, and when Ginny smirked at her brother, she added, "Ginny, stop arguing about the Seeker position. Ron's got his mind made up, and I happen to think he's right."

Ron grinned at her, apparently surprised by her agreement. Hermione's face grew warm, but she smiled back in spite of herself. "Pass the pumpkin juice, please?" she asked, hoping he hadn't noticed her blush.

Overhead, the soft _whoosh_ of wings flapping was heard as dozens of owls flew in with the morning mail. A large, grey one dropped a tightly rolled newsparchment in front of Hermione, while a tiny owl fluttered madly near Ron and Ginny. Ron reached for the letter that was clutched in Pigwidgeon's claws, but Ginny was quicker.

"It's addressed to both of us, from Fred and George," she said as she scanned the envelope. "I suppose it's too much to hope they've sent us merchandise vouchers, the stingy prats."

Ginny slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of parchment, which, after reading, she passed over to Ron.

"Excellent, they're opening a branch in Hogsmeade! And it will be open in time for the first Hogsmeade weekend!"

"It makes sense. The majority of their customers are Hogwarts students," Ginny said. "I can't wait to visit."

Hermione had remained silent, and when Ron poked her gently in the shoulder, she jumped, startled.

"Something wrong?"

"There was a break-in at Ollivander's shop last night," Hermione replied, showing them the headline on the morning issue of the Daily Prophet.

"Was anyone hurt?" Ginny asked quietly, her face white and pinched. Stories of attacks ranging from vandalism to assault, and even murder had become frighteningly commonplace on the front page of the Prophet; often the names of the victims were familiar ones.

Hermione read further down the page. "I don't think so. It was after hours, so the store was closed. No, wait. Mr. Ollivander lives above the shop. This says he heard a disturbance, and when he came down to investigate, he was hit with a few nasty curses. He'll be in St. Mungo's for a few days, but he'll live."

Ginny looked relieved. "Good. I've always liked Mr. Ollivander. He was so nice to me whenever we went to get one of the boys a new wand. He even gave me my first toy wand. Was it Death Eaters?"

"They think so," Hermione said. "There wasn't a Dark Mark above the shop, but listen to this. 'The perpetrators not only stole several rare and valuable wands, but investigators discovered that Mr. Ollivander's sales record's had been stolen, dating back several hundred years.'"

"Why would anyone want to steal sales records?" Ron wondered.

Ginny understood, however. "Ron, Mr. Ollivander kept personal information on everyone who purchased a wand from him, especially if the wand was rare or a special request."

"Not only that," Hermione added, "but he documented the names of his customers' parents, and their lineage. You know...whether or not they're muggle-born or pure-blood. It was a hobby with him. He was interested in the types of wands chosen by different members of families and such...but that kind of information could be dangerous in the hands of the wrong people--people with a grudge against muggleborns. "

Hermione could see that Ron got the point. He turned towards her, a grave expression on his face. But before he could say anything, another owl landed in front of Hermione. This one was large and sleek with brown feathers. It thrust its leg towards Hermione and gave a sharp cry. The envelop in its grasp was deep purple, upon which Hermione's name was inscribed with gold lettering, but there was no return address. On the back was a wax seal impressed with the mark of a feather. Mystified, Hermione tore the envelop open, only to find that the parchment inside was blank.

"What on earth?" she wondered aloud.

"Put it away," Ron said in a low voice.

"But there's nothing here," Hermione said.

"You won't be able to read it here," Ginny explained quietly. "It's a secure communication, and you won't be able to read the contents unless you're alone. Dad gets them sometimes."

"But who would be sending me..." Hermione began, but at a quick shake of Ron's head, she fell silent. The envelope had risen from the table and folded itself into the shape of a phoenix, and as they watched, it burst into flames, leaving nothing behind, not even ashes. Hermione slipped the parchment into her robes to read later. She glanced around surreptitiously. Most of their fellow students had left for their classes already, and no one seemed to have noticed the strange missive. Hermione realized it must have been charmed to be inconspicuous to observers who weren't involved with the Order.

"We'd better go, or we're going to be late for History of Magic, Ron," Hermione said.

Ginny nodded at them. "See you at lunch?" she asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'll be in the library. I want to get a head start on the project that Professor Shacklebolt assigned us for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Ron heaved a sigh. "Hermione, that project isn't due until the end of the term."

"I know, and we're already almost a month in. Christmas break will be here before we know it."

They said goodbye to Ginny and walked to History of Magic together. Ron had fallen silent, and it occurred to Hermione that, save for Harry, they had never had very much in common. In fact, she'd often had the impression that Ron only put up with her for Harry's sake.

"Ron, you don't have to walk me to classes," she said abruptly.

Ron looked at her strangely. "We're going to the same class, Hermione. It's not like I've gone out of my way."

"Well, no, but...I thought...well, I wondered...maybe some days you'd rather walk with Seamus and Dean," Hermione nodded at the two boys who were climbing the staircase ahead of them.

"I never have before," Ron said, in a tone that indicated he thought this was a strange conversation to be having.

"Well, no, but before...it was different." A familiar lump had risen in Hermione's throat, though whether it was at the memory of Harry's death, or the thought of Ron's inevitable desertion, she couldn't have said.

"How?"

"Well, there was Harry, and you, and me. And now, there's just...you and me."

"So?"

"Well, I just thought...look, the point is, I don't want you to think have to walk me to and from classes all the time, that's all. We don't have that much in common and we don't have that much to talk about. You'd probably rather be talking about Quidditch and...and...girls. And I don't need your pity."

They had reached the door to Professor Binns class. Ron stopped short of entering and turned to Hermione.

"What are you talking about? I don't pity you. If anyone should pity anyone, they should pity me for having to put up with a nutter like you for a best friend."

"That's just it. You don't have to put up with me, Ronald Weasley," Hermione said sharply, stung by his words. "I'll even make it easy for you."

Hermione walked in and, instead of proceeding to her usual seat across the aisle from Ron, she chose a desk in front of Lavender and Parvati. She turned and greeted them. Lavender looked at her strangely, but returned the greeting, as did Parvati. Hermione asked to borrow a sheet of parchment, and then pointed out Terry Boot's haircut. The three of them began giggling.

"Girls are mad," Ron said loud enough for her to hear, shaking his head as he slid into a seat next to Neville. Hermione's face burned, but she ignored him and turned her attention to the front of the classroom as Professor Binns drifted in through one of the walls and began lecturing in his usual monotone.

The topic for the day was the Burning Times, and even though the subject fascinated her, Hermione's attention began to drift after a few minutes. As much as she chided Ron and Harry for not paying attention in class, she often had to stifle her yawns during History of Magic. He tended to recite the text word for word, and she had always read it before class. Hermione began surreptitiously turning pages in her text, reading ahead of the Professor's lecture. She had read about the persecution of witches in primary school, when she still believed she was "normal". To study it from the perspective of a witch was rather more horrifying.

_Countless wizards' and witches' lives were lost during this period. Magical folk were blamed for everything from cows going dry to famines and plagues. Burning was originally used as a preferred method of death, but charms were soon developed that rendered the flames harmless. Muggles resorted to ganging up on their victims and performing strip-searches not only to look for "witches marks" which were ridiculous, but also to confiscate magical wands in order to conduct interrogations. Unfortunately, it is a rare witch or wizard who can cast magic effectively without a wand as a focal point. At that time, burning, drowning, crushing and hanging were used. Poor records were kept, but the number is estimated to be in the millions. The tragedies spread all across the globe, reaching even into the colonies. It was during this time that the wizarding world separated itself from the muggle world completely. However, it soon became noted that from time to time, muggle parents could give birth to a magical child. Genetecists are still uncertain if this is a natural evolutionary progression, or if at one time, all humans were magical and have simply lost those abilities._

_Wizarding society never recovered from these tragedies, and our numbers have been dwindling ever since. Some magical geneticists theorize that wizarding society as we know it will cease to exist within the next several hundred years , that the bloodlines will be so dilute that we will be unable to function as a society and that eventually all magical ability will be lost._

_It is upon these theories that several movements have been founded over the years, one of the most notable of which occurred in the 1970's during Lord Voldemort's reign of terror. Many pureblood families were duped into joining his crusade to keep bloodlines pure and strengthen our defenses against possible muggle infiltration. _

_Your assignments are to research and report on some of our more prominent "pure" bloodlines. Each of these families has made contributions for preserving wizarding society, your report is expected to contain those as well. You will work in groups of two and present your findings at the end of the term._

Professor Binns pointed his transparent wand at a stack of paper slips on his desk. Gently they floated up into the air, each fluttering towards a student. Professor Binns circled the room recording work groups onto a piece of parchment that was as transparent as he. Hermione was assigned to work with Neville, who gave her a shy smile until Ron scowled at him. Moments later, it was Hermione's turn to scowl when Lavender beamed at Ron flirtatiously, having been assigned to be his partner. She turned away as Lavender leaned over closer to Ron, so that the gap between her blouse and her flesh widened enough to reveal the lacy edge of her bra. Judging by the color of Ron's ears, he was enjoying the view.

Hermione glanced down to see that the parchment that had fluttered into her hands was now in tiny pieces. The family that she and Neville were to study were the Weasleys.

* * *

Harry gave a sigh of relief as the clock on the wall finally ticked away the final minutes of class. He had always hated History of Magic. The only thing that had ever made it tolerable was the company of Hermione and Ron, and now he was deprived of that as well. When the parchment containing his term paper assignment fluttered onto his desk, stifled a groan of dismay. If he'd had any enthusiasm for the project when it was announced, his assigned partner squelched that immediately.

His partner was Malfoy.

They were to study the Potter bloodline.

He glanced over to see his "partner" had thrust his hand into the air. Without waiting for the professor to acknowledge him, Malfoy complained loudly.

"I don't see the point in studying a bloodline that is now extinct, and what's more, wasn't pure at the time of its _unfortunate _demise," he said, casting a grin at Crabb and Goyle, who chortled. "Potter's mother was a mudblood."

Harry clenched his fists, struggling not to react. Evan Jameson had no reason to care about Harry Potter's bloodline.

"I think you'll find that the Potter bloodline remained as pure as any of the other families that call themselves so," replied the Professor. He was prevented from speaking further by the bell indicating the end of the hour. Malfoy left without another word, dutifully followed by his thugs. Harry dawdled while gathering his belongings. He had decided he would prefer to spend the year alone than befriend his roommates. To his relief, they were long gone when he finally exited the classroom.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. He sat alone at the Slytherin table during lunch. Malfoy was nowhere to be found, nor were Ron, Hermione and Ginny. His classes passed uneventfully until his last hour, which was Transfiguration. They had completed their review of plant and animal transfigurations and had moved on to human transfiguration. The assignment for the day had been to alter the length of their own hair. Unfortunately, Harry was still becoming accustomed to his new wand. His hair had spilled over onto the floor and was twining around the legs of the surrounding desks before he managed to halt its growth, eliciting laughter from most of his classmates, Ron in particular. Malfoy, however, though he had laughed, had refrained from commenting. Instead, when Ron's back was turned and Professor McGonagall was occupied with another student, he had aimed his wand at Ron and transfigured his ears into miniature versions of an elephant's. Harry couldn't help but snicker as they began to flap of their own accord, confounding Ron in the middle of his own attempt at growing hair, so that he wound up with a mohawk.

When Professor McGonagall came to investigate, no one pointed out Malfoy as the culprit, including Harry. So, rather than giving the entire class detention, she had set them an extra chapter and an essay for homework, due the next day. Harry had no idea how he would manage to complete the work before morning, unless he skipped sleep altogether. Classes may have been over for the day for everyone else, but he still had an Occlumency session.

When he arrived at Professor Dumbledore's quarters, the professor was waiting for him and had taken the liberty of pouring Harry a cup of tea, as he did at the beginning of each of their sessions. Harry sipped slowly from his cup. He had grown accustomed to the ritual, even to the slightly bitter taste of the herbal tea, and found himself relaxing slowly. They drank their tea together in silence. Unless Harry had anything particularly pressing to discuss, Dumbledore preferred to save all conversation for the end of their sessions, so as not to hinder the effects of the tea. Once they were finished, he removed the tea service and placed a lit candle before Harry.

After taking a deep breath, Harry focused on the candle. He had progressed enough that he could clear his mind in a matter of moments, and without the additional guidance of Professor Dumbledore's voice. Soon, all he saw before him was the candle, and in another moment, he had constructed the impenetrable stone wall in his mind. He closed his eyes and savored the peace and quiet for a while, then, as the Professor had instructed him during one of their previous sessions, he began to attempt to construct a window in the wall. He had been practicing and was now able to remove several stones without collapsing the wall around him.

"Evan? Can you hear me?" The professor's voice was faint, but audible, and Harry could understand him perfectly.

"Yes, sir. I can hear you," he replied.

"Good. Very good. You're progressing more quickly than I had hoped. You must continue to practice building the window, and, when you are comfortable with it, work on functioning for longer periods of time each day with the wall in place, until it becomes second nature to you, to the point that you are able to maintain it even when you are sleeping."

"Yes sir."

"However, Evan, I wouldn't recommend utilizing your wall during class just yet. After all, we can't have you failing."

Harry laughed. "No, sir."

"Now, then. Open your eyes."

Harry opened his eyes. At first, all he saw around him was the stone wall, tall and imposing. Then he located the window, and visualized himself walking towards it and peering out. Beyond his wall were Professor Dumbledore's quarters, and as he continued to peer through, his constructed wall receded, so that all he could see were his actual surroundings. But he could still feel the wall, there in his mind, and the sanctuary it provided. He looked over at Professor Dumbledore and grinned.

"I did it!"

"Indeed. You can still sense your wall?"

"Yes. It's there, but I can see past it. All I had to do was walk over to the window."

"Very good. Now picture yourself stepping back. And shut the window, if you can."

Harry did as the professor bid him and mentally stepped away from his window to the outside world. Immediately, the walls re-materialized around him, and he contemplated how to close the window. The stones he had removed to create it had disappeared, and he wasn't certain how to get them back. Then another thought occurred to him, and a wooden shutter appeared before him, securely fastened to the stone. Harry reached over, shut and locked it. After a moment, he reopened it and peered out again until once more, Professor Dumbledore was visible and Harry's wall had receded. Harry was pleased to see that the Professor was beaming at him.

"Excellent work, excellent. I think that will be all for the day. But don't bother dismantling your wall. You may as well begin practicing with it now."

The professor rose from his seat on the worn sofa and waved his wand in mid-air. A large, green steamer trunk zoomed in from another room and settled itself at Harry's feet. On its lid were engraved the initials H.P.

"I believe inside you will find the items you requested," the Professor explained.

Harry nodded and flipped the latches on the trunk. After rummaging inside for a moment, he located the items he wanted: a wand, a book, and a lumpy velvet sack. There was one item missing, however.

"Where's the..." Harry began, but before he could get the words out, a broomstick zoomed out of the same room as the trunk had before and hovered in front of Harry. He reached up to the sleek, highly polished handle, stroking it lightly with finger tips. "I've missed this. The Nimbus 3000 is a terrific broom, but..." he trailed off, unable to explain his attachment to the broom that his godfather had given him several years ago. Professor Dumbledore, however, didn't appear to need the explanation. He simply nodded.

"Why do you need these items, if I may ask? You know you can't keep them with you. There is too much potential--"

"For discovery. I know, Professor, you don't have to tell me. And I didn't ask you to bring them so I could keep them with me. Actually, I want to give them away."

Professor Dumbledore wrinkled his brows in consternation for a moment, but then a look of sorrow crossed his face.

"Harry...are you certain? You know that this has the potential to cause them more pain than happiness."

"At first, yes. But I've thought about it, Professor, and I have my reasons. I think...I think they'd like to have these things, even if they may not think so at first. After all...I changed my mind, didn't I?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded again. Harry gave one last look at the items before him, and as he reached for his old wand, he recalled the day that Professor Dumbledore had approached him with a similar set of items, just a couple of months ago. He had been studying the copy of _Camouflaging Your Countenance _that the professor had given him when the knock came at the door.

* * *

_August, 1996_

"_Good afternoon, Harry."_

_Harry didn't return the greeting, as he was in the middle of an incantation. _

"Purpureum caesaries !"_ he said, pointing his wand at his head. He felt a slight tingling sensation, so he knew something had happened. Professor Dumbledore, who had not moved from the doorway, gave a slight cough. Harry grabbed the hand-held mirror on the bed beside him and took a look._

_His hair was bright purple, and he sighed in disgust._

"_Well, it may look great on Tonks, but it's definitely not me."_

"_I think you might want to aim for something slightly more low-key. After all, the point of disguising yourself is to avoid attracting attention, rather than commanding it," the professor suggested._

_Harry looked over at his professor with a sour expression. "It was supposed to be red. Like Ron's, or Ginny's."_

"_Ah. Yes, I've always thought the Weasley red to be an attractive color. I believe the incantation you need is _Rubefactum_ rather than _Purpureum._ Keep trying. You'll get the hang of it."_

"_Tonks always makes it look so easy," Harry said, discouraged. He'd been practicing for days, and this was his most successful attempt yet._

"_Tonks is a metamorphmagus. She was born with these skills, they come naturally to her. And, when she changes one of her features, it will remain that way until she decides to change it again. You, however, will have to remember that whatever appearance you eventually decide upon will have to be carefully maintained. Most transfiguration charms are not permanent."_

"_I understand." Harry noticed that the professor was carrying a small box in his hands. "Is that for me?" he asked._

"_Yes. It is."_

_The professor's usual carefree manner was absent, and Harry knew that whatever was in the box must be important. Professor Dumbledore handed it to him, but stopped him before he could open it._

"_Before you inspect the contents, Harry, there is something we must discuss."_

_Harry set the box aside as the professor drew a chair next to the bed and sat. _

"_You are aware that Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix LeStrange were members of the Black family."_

_Harry nodded, bile rising in his throat at the thought of Bellatrix, who had murdered her own cousin in cold blood during the Death Eater attack at the ministry barely two months ago While the pain was fresh, it seemed a lifetime ago. _

"_Sirius entrusted me with the responsibility of executing his will. He left everything to you, including Number 12 Grimmauld Place."_

"_I don't want it," Harry said. The thought of returning to the house that Sirius had hated so much, where he had been virtually imprisoned for the last few months of his life, it made Harry sick to his stomach. If he had his way, it would be burned to the ground, with Kreacher inside. And he'd use Mrs. Black's screeching portrait to kindle the blaze._

"_It's just as well," the professor said in a grave tone. "Narcissa has contested the will, as a legitimate descendant of Phineas Nigellus Black. Unfortunately, the Wizengamot have a tendency to side with so-called pureblood families. As your mother is muggle-born, and in light of your untimely "demise", your claim was superseded by the Black sisters. The house and all its contents will go to Narcissa, as Bellatrix is currently a fugitive. As wizarding society considers house-elves to be property, Kreacher now belongs to Narcissa as well."_

"_Then, what's in the box, sir?" Harry asked, indicating the oblong object he had set aside._

"_These are a few of Sirius's personal effects. I salvaged them from his room before the Order vacated the premises. They were not included in the official inventory and will not be missed."_

_Professor Dumbledore nodded at the box, indicating that Harry should open it, so he gently lifted the wooden lid. The small brass hinges protested with a harsh squeak, as if they hadn't been dislodged for ages. The box contained two wands, a gold, oval shaped locket, a small, square mirror. _

_A shiver went through Harry as he realized who three of the items must have belonged to. He picked up the mirror and held it in his hands._

"_The wands belonged to your mother and father. And after you were born, I don't recall ever seeing Lily Potter without that locket around her neck. The mirror was not in the box. I found it on top of the lid."_

"_I know what it is," Harry said dully. It was the mate to the mirror Sirius had given him at the beginning of his fifth year, the one he had never bothered to use and had smashed in a fit of anger--the same mirror that might have prevented Sirius's death. Harry set it aside and picked up the locket instead. There was a catch at the seam; when Harry pressed it with his thumbnail it sprang open, revealing three locks of hair: one red, one black and coarse, and one black and downy, obviously a young child's. Harry snapped it shut again and placed it back inside the box._

"_Why didn't he give these to me last summer?" Harry asked, when he trusted his voice not to crack._

"_I can't answer that, Harry. I can only surmise that he was waiting for an opportune moment...and as you and I have both learned, there is never a truly opportune moment for things of this nature," the professor said in a regretful tone. _

_Harry knew he was thinking of the years that had passed in which he had kept Harry in the dark about a number of things...Sirius, his parents' struggle with Voldemort, and the prophecy that doomed him to an almost certain death. And while it may have been done with the best of intentions, Harry couldn't completely control his anger over the consequences. He said nothing to assauge his professor's feelings of guilt, nor did he enjoy his discomfort. He simply felt empty._

_Idly, Harry picked up one of the wands. It was a sort of burnished golden color, the handle smooth and worn from use. The wood seemed to warm under Harry's fingertips, and when he pulled it from the box, a shower of sparks lit the air. Harry jumped in surprise, as did Professor Dumbledore._

"_Well, now. That is fortunate, indeed."_

"_Sir?" Harry asked, confused. Why would it matter that the wand had shot sparks?_

"_You purchased your own wand from Mr. Ollivander, correct?" the professor asked. When Harry nodded, he continued. "No doubt he explained to you that the wand chooses the wizard, rather than the other way around. If the wand and the wizard are not a proper match, his magic will suffer for it. I believe young Mr. Longbottom will do much better in school now that Augusta is forced to purchase for him a proper wand."_

"_But what does that have to do with me?" Harry asked. Then Dumbledore's meaning became clear. He couldn't return to Hogwarts with his old wand. The chances were slim, but it was possible someone, Hermione or Ron, or even one of his professors, might recognize it._

"_I see you've realized my point. To be honest, I wasn't certain how I would go about procuring a new wand for you to use during the coming school-year. Taking you to Ollivander's is out of the question. However, it seems the problem has resolved itself. Your father's wand has chosen you. And if I'm not mistaken, your father was one of Minerva's top students. Perhaps you should try your transfiguration again?"_

_Harry waved the new wand at his head and again chanted, _"Rubefactum caesaries!" _Once more his scalp tingled momentarily, and Professor Dumbledore nodded._

"_Take a look," he said._

_Harry grabbed the long-handled mirror he had been using earlier and stared at his reflection. His hair was now bright red, almost the exact same color as Ron's. He could have been a member of the Weasley clan. Harry dropped the mirror as if it had burned him. _

"_Maybe I'll try brown instead."_

_Judging by the saddened expression on his professor's face, he didn't need to explain._

* * *

Harry set his wand back on the table, along with the book and the lumpy velvet sack. He closed the lid of his trunk and began to refasten the latches, but reconsidered and instead drew one more item from the trunk: a beautiful, shimmery cloth embroidered with golden threads.

"This I'd like to keep, if that's all right."

Professor Dumbledore appeared as if he would argue, but instead cautioned Harry, "Invisibility Cloaks are extremely rare. Do not let anyone else know you have it."

"Yes sir."

"Very well. Do you wish to specify your bequests to your friends?" the professor asked, his tone now resigned.

Harry thought for a moment. He had considered whether or not to request that certain items be given to certain people, but then he had thought better of it. He knew Ron and Hermione well enough to trust they would know what to do with the items.

"No, sir. Just tell them you think I would have wanted them to have these."

"As you wish, Evan. I think that will be all for the evening. You may go."

"Yes, sir." Harry said and turned to leave, but when he reached the staircase, he stopped and turned. Dumbledore had not moved from the sofa and was watching him expectantly. "Professor, there's something I need to know."

"Certainly, if the knowledge is mine to give," the professor replied in a serious voice. Harry took a few steps closer, but stopped halfway between the entrance and the sofa, too uncomfortable to proceed any further. Dumbledore's gaze was piercing, and Harry dropped his eyes to avoid it, instead focusing on the candle which was burning low in it's holder.

"Where are they?" he asked in a quiet voice that was on the verge of cracking. He cleared his throat and continued. "My mother and father, I mean. Where were they buried? No one's ever told me. I...I thought I might like to visit them sometime."

"There is a private cemetery on the grounds. It's usually for staff members who have made Hogwarts their home, but your parents were interred there. Would you like me to take you to it?" the professor asked gently.

"Could you just tell me how to get there?" Harry asked. This was something he wanted to do alone.

"It's at the south end of the grounds, in a small grove on the west side of the lake. If you look for it, you will find it."

"Thank you, sir."

Harry mounted the spiral staircase, which slowly circled up towards the concealed opening behind the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office and personal quarters. Before he stepped out, he donned the invisibility cloak. He was tall enough now that it just barely brushed the floor when he walked. With a bit of nostalgia, he remembered the days when he, Ron and Hermione were all easily concealed by the shimmering folds of fabric that rendered the wearer invisible to observers. But those days were gone. When Harry peered out into the second floor corridor, he was relieved to see it was empty. He made it to the front entrance of the castle without incident, though once there he was forced to wait several minutes for someone to come along and open the doors so he could slip out unnoticed.

To his dismay, the first people to come along were Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley. Harry remembered the way her brief kiss had electrified his skin several days ago, and noticed that Dean had his arm wrapped securely around Ginny's waist. He was struck by the sudden urge to send a stinging hex towards his former roommate. Not enough to do any damage...just enough to make him move his hand, which had lodged itself uncomfortably close to Ginny's well-shaped bottom.

A hot flush crept over Harry, and he was grateful for the invisibility cloak that shielded him from view. He had no business ogling Ginny Weasley's bum. Ron was his best friend, and if he ever found out, it was likely Harry would be on the end of that stinging hex, or worse.

And as for Evan Jameson...well, Ron had made it perfectly clear that he wanted Ginny to have absolutely nothing to do with Evan whatsoever. Not that Ginny seemed to care, but then, he'd noticed over the past year or so that Ginny rarely did anything just because it was expected of her. In either case, however, neither Harry nor Evan--and it was still strange to be thinking of himself as two separate people--should be dwelling on any part of Ginny Weasley's anatomy, no matter how shapely.

During the course of his self-diatribe, Harry had missed the opportunity to follow Dean and Ginny out of the doors. His next chance came in the form of a group of third-years, giggling excitedly and chattering to each other about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Harry fell into step behind them and slipped out of the open door easily without being detected. He was glad when they veered off towards the Quidditch pitch, where the Ravenclaw team was practicing. There were other students walking alongside the lake, but it was easy for him to avoid them. When the lake began to curve around, he strayed away from the beaten path, towards a short, ancient-looking stone wall he'd never noticed before, nearly hidden by a thicket of trees. As he drew closer, he could see that the clearing encircled by the wall was scattered with gravestones.

The chill in the air seemed to grow thicker, and Harry was grateful for the extra warmth his cloak provided. He finally located a rusty, wrought-iron gate and passed through. The cemetery wasn't large, but there were, by his estimate, thirty or forty different gravestones. He began walking amongst them, stepping carefully to avoid treading over someone's final resting place. Eventually, at the edge of the clearing, under the overhanging branches of an ancient oak, he came to a mound of earth that the hardy, highland grass had only just begun to reclaim, and when he glanced up at headstone, his blood ran cold.

_Harry James Potter_

_B. 31 July 1980_

_D. 8 August 1996_

_Beloved son, brother and friend_

Nearby was a larger headstone, where two people have obviously been laid to rest side by side. Harry didn't need to look to know that he had found his parents' graves. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat and ignored the headstone of the Boy Who Lived and stepped over to inspect the other stone.

_Lily Evans Potter----------James Bowman Potter_

_B. 30 January 1960----------B. 27 March 1960_

_D. 31 October 1981_

_Together in Eternity_

There was a shape underneath the final line of the epitaph, but it was obscured by overgrown grass and many years accumulation of dead leaves. Harry knelt to clear the debris from the stone and discovered the carving was that of a phoenix in flight, half-engulfed by flames.

Harry stood and stared for a moment. He felt a little foolish. People usually brought flowers, but he didn't have any and didn't know where to get any. He supposed Hagrid would probably have an idea, but he, as Evan Jameson, couldn't very well ask for flowers to adorn the graves of James and Lily Potter, could he? He glanced around, wondering if there were at least any wildflowers growing nearby, and was startled to see two other figures approaching the stone wall, one red-haired, one dark. Ginny and Dean. As he watched, they stopped just short of the gate he had passed through earlier. After a few minutes of conversation, which appeared to be mostly one-sided on Ginny's part, Dean delivered a terse response and departed. Ginny watched after him for a moment, then shook her head and walked through the gate, approaching Harry's direction. Even though he was still safely concealed beneath his invisibility cloak, Harry stepped away from the graves climbed over the short wall to stand behind the stout trunk of the tree whose branches sheltered his parents graves, as well as his empty one. The dry autumn leaves on the ground rustled under his feet, even when he was doing his best to remain still, so while Ginny was still many meters away, he grasped a low branch and swung himself onto it, taking care to tuck the cloak around him so in order to remain hidden.

He leaned against the trunk of the tree, his breathing ragged from the exertion of climbing into the tree combined with his fear of discovery. Judging by the rustling of leaves underneath her feet, she stopped just a few feet from the tree. Harry's heart beat just a little faster in the silence that seemed to stretched for an eternity, then when she spoke, he felt as if she had punched him in the gut.

"Hello, Harry."

* * *

Ginny knelt to clear away some of the dead leaves that had fallen across the base of the headstone. Ron and Hermione had offered to come with her, but she knew they didn't really want to. They'd been here before, and their grief was still too fresh for them. But Ginny knew she had to see it for herself. Harry's death was blurry in her mind, almost surreal, from the moment he collapsed in the Leaky Cauldron to the day Molly kept her company during the funeral services. Being here, seeing his name engraved in the stone, was painful, perhaps more than anything else she'd ever experienced, save for her trial down in the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry was intimately connected with that pain, too. But even while the pain tightened in throat and threatened to choke her, she felt a quiet peace steal over her, and a restlessness stilled within her that she hadn't been consciously aware of. It had happened; it was real. Maybe now the expectation of seeing him at the Gryffindor table every morning with Ron and Hermione would begin to fade.

Ginny began tracing the engravings in the headstone with her index finger. Her mum and dad had, with Professor Dumbledore's approval, taken care of most of the funeral arrangements, including the headstone. She knew they meant the part about "beloved son" just as much as Harry's own parents would have. Ron had requested that "brother" be added as well; Fred and George had agreed wholeheartedly. Hermione had been too overcome by emotion to voice her own sentiments about Harry's epitaph, so Ron had requested that "friend" be added on her behalf. Ginny supposed it was for herself as well; at least, it fit as well as any other description she could come up with. She didn't know if she would ever work out what Harry had meant to her. She only knew there was an empty hole somewhere inside that he used to fill.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to visit. I just couldn't until now. And I can't stay long. I'll just start crying, and I think if I start again, I might never stop. I just wanted to let you know that we haven't forgotten you, and we miss you dreadfully. And I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know it wasn't my fault, but I keep thinking if I'd noticed sooner, if we had gotten you to St. Mungo's earlier, or seen something, or someone...you would still be here." Hot tears began to fill Ginny's eyes, and she blinked them away angrily.

"Oh, damn. I have to go, Harry," Ginny rasped. She kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to the headstone briefly before getting to her feet. She paused for a moment at the graves of the Potters, saying a brief prayer for them in her head.

"Ginny."

She turned to find Evan Jameson leaning against the trunk of a huge oak tree. Shock mingled with embarrassment. She hated for anyone to see her cry, and she swiped hastily at her eyes. When she finally found her voice, she asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't spying. I...uh..." Evan trailed off, apparently at a loss to explain his presence.

Ginny stepped closer, anger overcoming her embarrassment. "Did someone tell you he was here? Did you come to ooh and aah over the grave of the Boy Who Lived? Looking for a souvenir, maybe?"

Evan took a step back, shaking his head vehemently. "No! I swear, it wasn't like that. I just...I was taking a walk, exploring the grounds...and this is where I wound up."

He seemed sincere, as well as genuinely shocked by her accusation, and Ginny's anger abated somewhat. She inhaled deeply several times to calm herself; her entire body was shaking from the leftover adrenalin. Evan must have taken silence for continued anger.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. And I'll go...but first, are you all right?"

"I'm okay. And you don't have to leave. You just surprised me, is all." Ginny looked around, wondering how she had missed Evan. "Where were you, anyway?"

"In the tree. It seemed like a good place to sit and think. Quiet. Out of the way."

Ginny eyed the huge old oak and nodded. "Yeah. I guess it would be. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take a pop at you like that. It's just that Harry..." she trailed off, wondering if she should bother to explain.

Evan looked away, as if the subject of Harry discomfited him. "Do you want to sit down? I think I saw some benches back there."

He pointed towards a weather-worn marble tomb at the back of the cemetery, near the wall that delineated the borders of the Hogwarts grounds. On the other side was the carriage road. Funny, Ginny thought, how she had never noticed the cemetery before. She nodded and started walking. Evan fell into step beside her. She noticed he was still wearing his school robes and remarked on it, rather than resuming a conversation about Harry.

"Hogwarts doesn't require that students wear uniforms except during class, you know," she teased.

"Wha...oh. Yeah. I had a late class and decided to take a walk. I just didn't bother to change first."

"Avoiding your housemates?" Ginny asked. Evan didn't answer, but Ginny suspected she was right. "I can't say I blame you. What's it like down there, anyway? The Slytherin common room is in the dungeons, isn't it?"

"Didn't R-" Evan began, but stopped. "I mean, didn't you tell me that the common room location of each house is a closely guarded secret?"

"Well, yeah, but I all but showed you where the Gryffindor common room is. Tit for tat," she said with a laugh, nudging Evan gently with her shoulder as they walked. "Come on, I'm dying to know about it. I can't imagine living underground."

"Under the lake, actually."

"Really?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah. It's damp. But I guess the cool thing is that one of the walls is charmed so that you can see into the lake. Sometimes merpeople swim by."

"Ugh," Ginny replied, thinking of the second task during the Tri-Wizard tournament. She'd never seen a merperson close up before that. She would be perfectly happy never to see another. "You weren't here for the Triwizard Tournament, were you?"

Evan shook his head. "No. I was too young. They only let the students who were old enough to compete visit."

They had reached the benches. Ginny started to sit, but Evan stopped her.

"Just a minute." He pointed his wand and performed a warming charm on the bench.

"Thanks," Ginny said as she took a seat. Now that they had reached their destination, she was at a loss for words.

Evan nodded towards the gravestones they had left. "You...er...mentioned him before. Harry. Did you want to talk about it?"

Ginny took a deep breath. She felt a little funny talking about Harry to anyone. Hermione knew all about her crush on Harry and had frequently offered sisterly advice. It was at Hermione's urging that she had accepted a date with Michael Corner to spend the day at Hogsmeade together during spring term her third year. And her mum had always lent a sympathetic ear. But she hadn't talked to anyone about Harry's death, not since her stay in the hospital. Not even to Ron.

"Last year was really hard for Harry," she said finally. "The Daily Prophet was always writing slanderous articles about him, making it sound like he was crackers. Even the year before that, when he was a contestant in the Tournament, they wouldn't leave him alone. They printed stuff about his personal life, tried to make it sound like Hermione Granger broke his heart." She stopped and glanced at Evan. He seemed to be listening intently, so she continued.

"And now...they're making him out to be a martyr, some kind of saint. He didn't want all that. He never did. He just wanted to be Harry Potter."

Ginny stopped and took a breath. Tears of anger and frustration had sprung to her eyes once again, and it was a moment before she had collected herself enough to go on. Evan said nothing; he simply watched her. Ginny half laughed, half choked, imagining what he must think of her carrying on in such a fashion.

"He's here so that nobody can bother him. Except those of us who loved him," she added as an afterthought. "This is the first time I've been to his gravesite. I was in hospital the day they buried him."

"Why?" Evan asked. His voice was oddly hoarse.

Ginny laughed bitterly again. "Why am I telling you all of this? You can't possibly want some girl you barely know blubbering all over you the boy she used to have a crush on."

"I don't mind," he said, and then continued when she snorted, "No, really. You're...you're really the only friend I've got here. I like talking to you."

Ginny remembered how lonely she had been during her first year at Hogwarts. "You'll make friends, Evan. It just takes time," she said, smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

He shrugged. "Maybe. But I kind of like the friend I've already got." He glanced sideways at her and then looked quickly away again, his cheeks coloring faintly.

Ginny's heart thudded just a bit harder, the same way it had when he had stared at her after she'd kissed his cheek on the staircase the other day. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the nagging thought that she shouldn't be feeling this way about another boy, that it should be Dean who made her heart beat faster in her chest. Her smile faded, and she looked away towards the lake, where the shadows had deepened, reaching like creepy, gnarled fingers across its glassy surface. The sun was quickly sinking into the horizon, and the windows of the castle were glowing with warm, yellow light.

"It's getting dark. We should go inside before we miss supper," she said.

Evan looked around, apparently just as surprised as she at the passage of time. He glanced back, mouth open as if to speak, but then he just stood and held out his hand to help her up from the bench. Ginny slipped her fingers into his, noticing they were rough and callused from hours of Quidditch practice, just as hers were. His hand closed warmly over hers and he tugged gently, pulling her easily from her sitting position. When he didn't let go, she drew her hand from his reluctantly and clasped both hands behind her back. Even in the fading light, she could see Evan's flush deepen as he shoved his own hands into the pockets of his trousers. An awkward silence stretched between them as they walked back to the castle. As they reached the Great Hall, Evan gave her a sharp nod and turned in the direction of the Slytherin table.

"Evan, wait," Ginny said, reaching out to catch his arm.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." When he gave her a quizzical look, she added, "For listening, I mean." To Ginny's relief, he smiled.

"You're welcome," he said. Then his face darkened as he glanced over her shoulder. "I'll see you later."

Ginny turned and saw that Ron had risen from the Gryffindor table, his eyes following Evan's retreating back. Dean was still seated but was watching her, his expression blank. Ginny ignored her brother as she took the seat Dean had saved for her.

Hermione, who was seated with Lavender and Parvati several seats down from Ron, leaned forward to wave at Ginny. As Ron opened his mouth to deliver what was certain to be another lecture on the evils of Slytherin house, she asked pointedly, "Ron, would you please pass the potatoes?"

"Seamus is closer, and there's something I want to say-"

"Ron..." Hermione began in a warning tone.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine," he grumbled in a disgusted tone. "But don't think this is the end of it."

He took his seat and shoved the bowl of potatoes towards Hermione, who ignored it and reached for a bowl of peas instead. Ron glared at her, but she simply smiled innocently as she dished peas onto her plate.

Next to Ginny, Dean scooted closer and slipped his arm around her shoulders. She gently shrugged it away as she began reaching for serving dishes.

"Sorry...it's hard to eat that way," she explained, though it hadn't bothered her before. Dean gave her a funny look, but then Seamus distracted him with a question. Ginny breathed a small sigh of relief, then glanced across the room. The seat he had saved for her was facing the Slytherin table, and Ginny could feel Evan's eyes on her as she ate mechanically, hardly tasting her food, although whenever she glanced his way, he was looking in another direction.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Ginny nodded, even though she wasn't sure that was true.

"Professor Dumbledore wants to see us in his office after supper," Ron said.

"What for?" Ginny asked.

"Dunno. Professor McGonagall delivered the note while you were outside."

"Just us?" Ginny asked, as tendrils of fear crept up her spine, causing her scalp to prickle with the sensation of icy fingers walking across. "Has...has something happened?"

"No, he wants to see the three of us. Don't worry, Ginny, I don't think it's anything like that," Hermione said in an attempt to be reassuring, but even she didn't look completely convinced.

The potatoes that had been tasteless previously now turned to sawdust in Ginny's mouth. She swallowed hard and then pushed her plate away, noting that Hermione and Ron were already finished.

"Let's go, then," she said. She didn't bother to bid Dean farewell, as he was involved in an argument with Seamus and several of the seventh year boys about the contenders for the World Cup the next year. Ron and Hermione led the way and she followed behind. None of them seemed interested in talking, and a shroud of fear hung over the three of them.

"Snozzberry butterbeer," Ron said to the Gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Professor's office. It hopped out of the way as a seam split in the wall to reveal the staircase. Ron indicated that she and Hermione should proceed him, and, as the staircase began spiraling upwards, Ginny's heart began racing. Whatever the reason Dumbledore had summoned them, it couldn't be good. The last time she had been there, she had been awoken out of a sould sleep and informed that her father had been attacked and was in hospital. The only other time she had been in Dumbledore's office, was the night Harry had rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets. She'd been sobbing too hard to remember much, but she had fully expected to be expelled from from school and have her wand snapped in half. She had even wondered whether or not the Ministry might have her declared a Dark Witch and thrown into Azkaban prison. And she had wondered if the Sorting Hat would betray her, let them know that it had always suspected she was tainted, that it had suggested perhaps she belonged in any of the houses but Gryffindor. She eyed it now as they entered the cluttered, dusty office. It was perched haphazardly on a shelf overhead and appeared to be sleeping, but as Ginny passed, she was certain it winked at her.

"Welcome Miss Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," the professor greeted them. Fawkes trilled a short greeting as well, and with a grin, Ginny stepped over to return the phoenix's greeting.

"Hello there," she said softly. Fawkes ducked his head towards her, which Ginny took as permission to stroke the silky feathers atop his head.

"Please, have a seat," Professor Dumbledore bade them. Ginny took the one nearest the phoenix's perch, while Hermione took the one in the middle and Ron the one on the other side.

"No doubt you are all wondering why I've called you here," the professor said, and when Ginny glanced nervously at her brother, he reassured them. "There is no need for alarm. Your families are all quite safe, I assure you. But I have asked you here on a matter of some delicacy."

Ginny heard Ron give a sharp intake of breath, and she turned to follow his gaze to a broomstick leaning against the wall behind the professor's chair.

It was Harry's firebolt.

Ginny's eyes darted to the collection of items on the desk, then to Professor Dumbledore. Obviously, these things had all belonged to Harry. Why were they here?

"These items were placed in my care after Harry's funeral. I thought you might like to have them," the professor said quietly.

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, then over at Ginny. Finally, Hermione answered. "No. No, sir, we...we couldn't."

Professor Dumbledore then added, "As you were his closest friends, I think Harry would have wanted you to have these things.

Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke. Hermione reached out to touch the slender length of wood that had been Harry's wand, then drew back as if it had burned her fingers. Ron had looked away and was now concentrating intently on a darkened spot in the stone floor in front of the professor's desk. Ginny's throat ached, and she longed for the solitude of her dormitory.

Ron spoke finally in a hoarse voice. "Thank you, sir."

He reached up to take the crimson velvet pouch, which was emblazoned with the initials HJP in gold lettering. It was the set of wizard's chessmen Harry had received for Christmas his first year at Hogwarts. He turned and nodded at Hermione, who reached for the leather-covered book. When she opened it, Ginny realized it was a photo album. The first few pages were scattered with pictures of a lovely red-haired woman and a man with messy, black hair and glasses. Ginny realized these must have been Harry's parents. As Hermione continued to flip through the pages, pictures of Harry appeared, first as a baby, then as a boy, usually accompanied by either Ron or Hermione or both. Hermione stared for a long time at one of the pictures of the three of them. Harry was in the middle, with an arm around both Hermione and Ron at either side of him. Every once in a while, they would turn and giggle or speak to each other before looking back towards the camera, waving brightly. Finally, she shut the book with a small sniffle and wiped surreptitiously at her eyes. Ginny looked away hastily, blinking furiously to clear away the own tears she could feel stinging her eyes once more. Then she felt Ron's hand on her shoulder.

"Ginny...the broom."

Shocked, Ginny turned back to her brother. He was grim-faced with resignation, and Ginny realized he intended for her to take Harry's Firebolt.

"No," she said, shaking her head emphatically. "No, Ron. He was your best friend. He'd want you to have it. You take it. And I'll just borrow your broom."

"Ginny, you're the Seeker. And as much as I hate to admit it, a damned good one. But my Cleansweep can't match the Nimbus that Jameson is riding. Take the Firebolt. I think Harry would like knowing another Seeker was riding it. And I know he'd want us to beat the pants off Slytherin."

Ginny's insides quaked with both dread and anticipation. She'd always admired Harry's Firebolt, even dreamed that maybe, one day, she'd get to ride it. But not like this. Finally, seeing the determined expression on her brother's face, she relented.

"All right. I'll use it for Quidditch. But it should belong to you, Ron," Ginny insisted.

"We'll figure that out later," Ron said, effectively ending the discussion. They sat in an awkward silence until Professor broke it with a question.

"What about Harry's wand?"

Ron and Ginny looked at each other, and Ginny nodded. Ron turned to Hermione.

"You should keep it, Hermione."

"Why me?" she asked, her eyes wide. Ginny thought she seemed frightened by the prospect.

"Someone should keep it safe. It will probably be safest with you."

Hermione didn't answer. She simply nodded, then reached for the wand again, closing her fingers around the handle reluctantly. A thought occurred to Ginny then.

"Professor Dumbledore, whatever became of Hedwig?"

The Professor's glanced dropped away for a moment. "Magical owls sometimes return to the wild after the death of their masters. I suspect Hedwig has done just that. She disappeared the same night of the services."

Ginny's heart ached at the thought of the beautiful snowy owl's disappearance. She would have loved to have given her a home, but she hoped that Hedwig would be happy, wherever she was.

"If you have no further questions, you may go," the professor said.

"I need to speak with you for a moment, Professor," Hermione.

A look passed between Ron and Hermione that Ginny couldn't quite decipher, but she realized it was none of her business. Ron nodded, then reached over and picked up Harry's firebolt and handed it to Ginny. Not a word was spoken between them until they reached the common room. Many of their fellow Gryffindors had gathered to study or pass the time by playing Exploding Snap or Wizard's Chess. Ginny hoped to be able to slip in amongst the noisy students and pass through to her dormitory unnoticed, but a loud exclamation from Colin Creevey made that impossible.

"Cor, Ginny, that's a Firebolt! Where'd you get it?"

Colin had been playing Gobstones with Seamus, Dean and Neville. Neville glanced up at Ginny, his eyes widening in recognition when he caught sight of the broom she was carrying. He glanced over at Ron, who nodded slightly.

"That's Harry's broom," Seamus said softly. Dean nodded in agreement but remained mute. His eyes drifted from the broom to Ginny, then away to the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace. Ginny felt ill. She had hoped Dean would understand, but after the argument they'd had before her visit to the cemetery that afternoon, it seemed unlikely.

Several of the other students began to crowd around Ginny, oohing and aahing over the highly polished racing broom. Ron elbowed some of them away, clearing a path for her to the stairs. Ginny departed the common room without another word, leaving her brother to make her excuses for her.

"Leave off, you lot."

Safely alone in her dormitory, Ginny carefully stood the broom next to her wardrobe then fished a nearly empty vial out of her trunk before collapsing into her bed. She drew the curtains with a wave of her wand and a muttered _"claudere_." After extinguishing the took a long swallow of the dreamless sleep potion, draining the bottle, and she made a mental note to ask Madame Pomfrey for a refill before drifting off into oblivion.


End file.
